The stories La tells....

The Fairy's Gift....a New Years tale

2011-12-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

Here's a wonderful New Years tale........

The Fairy's Gift

by Emilie Poulsson

Two little boys were at play one day when a Fairy suddenly appeared before them and said: "I have been sent to give you New Year presents."

She handed to each child a package, and in an instant was gone.

Carl and Philip opened the packages and found in them two beautiful books, with pages as pure and white as the snow when it first falls.

Many months passed and the Fairy came again to the boys. "I have brought you each another book," said she, "and will take the first ones back to Father Time who sent them to you."

"May I not keep mine a little longer?" asked Philip. "I have hardly thought about it lately. I'd like to paint something on the last leaf that lies open."

"No," said the Fairy; "I must take it just as it is."

"I wish that I could look through mine just once," said Carl; "I have only seen one page at a [4] time, for when the leaf turns over it sticks fast, and I can never open the book at more than one place each day."

"You shall look at your book," said the Fairy, "and Philip, at his." And she lit for them two little silver lamps, by the light of which they saw the pages as she turned them.

The boys looked in wonder. Could it be that these were the same fair books she had given them a year ago? Where were the clean, white pages, as pure and beautiful as the snow when it first falls? Here was a page with ugly, black spots and scratches upon it; while the very next page showed a lovely little picture. Some pages were decorated with gold and silver and gorgeous colors, others with beautiful flowers, and still others with a rainbow of softest, most delicate brightness. Yet even on the most beautiful of the pages there were ugly blots and scratches.

THE BOYS LOOKED IN WONDER

Carl and Philip looked up at the Fairy at last.

"Who did this?" they asked. "Every page was white and fair as we opened to it; yet now there is not a single blank place in the whole book!"

"Shall I explain some of the pictures to you?" said the Fairy, smiling at the two little boys. "See, Philip, the spray of roses blossomed on this page when you let the baby have your playthings; and this pretty bird, that looks as if it were singing with all its might, would never have been on this page if you had not tried to be kind and pleasant the other day, instead of quarreling."

"But what makes this blot?" asked Philip.

"That," said the Fairy sadly; "that came when you told an untruth one day, and this when you did not mind mamma. All these blots and scratches that look so ugly, both in your book and in Carl's, were made when you were naughty. Each pretty thing in your books came on its page when you were good."
"Oh, if we could only have the books again!" said Carl and Philip.

"That cannot be," said the Fairy. "See! they are dated for this year, and they must now go back into Father Time's bookcase, but I have brought you each a new one. Perhaps you can make these more beautiful than the others."

So saying, she vanished, and the boys were left alone, but each held in his hand a new book open at the first page.

And on the back of this book was written in letters of gold, "For the New Year."

An Independence Day Tale......The Freedom Bird, a tale from Thailand

2011-07-04T12:15:00.003-07:00

Once a long time ago there was a hunter walking through the woods. Far off in the forest he heard the faint sound of a bird singing a very strange song:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(**we all know this song, it's the universal children's taunt**)

The hunter walked and walked until at last he came to a tree with a beautiful golden bird sitting in the top.

He said, "Why does such a beautiful bird like you have such an ugly song?"

The bird looked down at the hunter and sang:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

The hunter said, "If you don't stop singing, I'm going to shoot you with my bow and arrow!"
The bird just looked down and sang again in a mocking voice:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

The hunter put an arrow in his bow and shot.....and he missed. The golden bird sang again:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

The hunter put another arrow in his bow and shot again. The arrow went right through the bird's heart. As the bird began to fall, the hunter rushed under the tree and caught it in his sack. He pulled the sack tight and started to walk home. But from down inside the bag, he heard the muffled singing of the bird:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

The hunter took the bird home, pulled it out of the sack, put it on the chopping block and plucked all the feathers from it. When he turned around to get a knife to cut the bird up, he heard over on the chopping block:

"Brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr."

The hunter took the knife and cut the bird up into a hundred small pieces, and then scraped them into a large pot full of water and put it on the stove to boil. When the water began to boil, he heard from down inside the pot, the bird singing:

"Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh."

Now the hunter was starting to get mad. He took the pot outside and put it on the ground and found himself a shovel and started to dig a deep, deep hole.
When the hole was way over his head, he climbed out and poured all the parts of the bird into the hole and covered it with dirt. And as he turned to go back into the house, he heard from deep down in the ground the bird singing:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

Now the hunter was furious. He grabbed his shovel and dug up every piece of the bird and put them in a little wooden box, and tied a large rock across the box with some rope.

He went down to the river and threw the box as far as he could out into the water. It splashed and went straight to the bottom. He stood on the bank waiting to hear the sound of the bird. He heard nothing, so he went home.

At the bottom of the river, the water loosened the rope around the box. The rock fell off and the box floated to the top of the water. It drifted along the river for three days. On the third day, the box floated by some children who were playing on the banks of the river. They saw this beautiful wooden box passing by and they wanted to know what was in it. They waded into the water and brought the box to shore.

When they opened it, out flew a hundred golden birds all singing in a full voice:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

About a year later, the very same hunter was walking through the woods. And far off in the distance, he heard the strange sound of the bird singing. He walked and walked until at last he came to the same tree where he had first seen the strange bird. But this time when he looked up in the tree, instead of seeing one bird, he saw a hundred golden birds.

He raised his hands and hollered out, "I know who you are now. You're the Freedom Bird, for you cannot be killed."

And all the birds looked down and sang to him at the same time:

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

This version of "The Freedom Bird" is by David Holt published in Ready-To-Tell Tales

similar tales can be found at http://www.story-lovers.com/listsfreedomstories.html

A Soldiers Tale.....a repost for Memorial Day

2011-05-30T13:24:00.003-07:00

I have tried to leave this story as I found it in Household Stories by the Brothers Grimm published in 1886. Only a very few changes have been made in language or description.

There was once a soldier who for many years had served the king faithfully. But when the war came to an end, it was decided that he could serve no longer because of the many wounds which he had received.

The king said to him, "You may return to your home, I need you no longer, and you will not receive any more money, for he only receives wages who renders me service for them."
Then the soldier, who knew no other way to earn a living, went away greatly troubled, and walked the whole day, until in the evening he entered a forest.

When darkness came on, he saw a light, which he went up to, and came to a house wherein lived a witch.
"Do give me one night's lodging, and a little to eat and drink," said he to her, "or I shall starve."

"Oho!'" she answered, "who gives anything to a cast-away soldier? Yet I will be compassionate, and take you in, if you will do what I wish."

"What do you wish?" said the soldier.

"That you should dig all round my garden for me, tomorrow."

The soldier consented, and next day labored with all his strength, but could not finish it by the evening.

"I see well enough," said the witch, "that you can do no more today, but I will keep you yet another night, in payment for which you must tomorrow chop me a load of wood, and chop it small."

The soldier spent the whole day in doing it, and in the evening the witch proposed that he should stay one night more.

"Tomorrow, you shall only do me a very trifling piece of work. Behind my house, there is an old dry well, into which my light has fallen, it burns blue, and never goes out, and you shall bring it up again."

Next day the old woman took him to the well, and let him down in a basket.
He found the blue light, and made her a signal to draw him up again.
She did draw him up, but when he came near the edge, she stretched down her hand and wanted to take the blue light away from him.

"No," said he, perceiving her evil intention, "I will not give you the light until I am standing with both feet upon the ground."

The witch fell into a passion, let him fall again into the well, and went away.
The poor soldier fell without injury on the moist ground, and the blue light went on burning, but of what use was that to him?
He saw very well that he could not escape death.
He sat for a while very sorrowfully, then suddenly he felt in his pocket and found his tobacco pipe, which was still half full.

"This shall be my last pleasure," thought he, pulled it out, lit it at the blue light and began to smoke. When the smoke had circled about the cavern, suddenly a little man stood before him, and said,"Lord, what are your commands?"

"What are my commands?" replied the soldier, quite astonished.

"I must do everything you bid me," said the little man.

"Good," said the soldier, "then in the first place help me out of this well."

The little man took him by the hand, and led him through an underground passage, but he did not forget to take the blue light with him. On the way the little man showed him the treasures which the witch had collected and hidden there, and the soldier took as much gold as he could carry.

When he was above, he said to the little man, "Now go and bind the old witch, and carry her before the judge."
In a short time she came by like the wind, riding on a wild tom-cat and screaming frightfully.
Nor was it long before the little man reappeared.
"It is all done," said he, "and the witch is already hanging on the gallows."
"What further commands has my lord?" inquired the little man.

"At this moment, none," answered the soldier, "You can return home, only be at hand immediately, if I summon you."

"Nothing more is needed than that you should light your pipe at the blue light, and I will appear before you at once."
Thereupon the little man vanished from the soldier's sight.

The soldier returned to the town from which he had come.
He went to the best inn, ordered himself handsome clothes, and then bade the landlord furnish him a room as handsome as possible.
When it was ready and the soldier had taken possession of it, he summoned the little man and said, "I have served the king faithfully, but he has dismissed me, and left me to hunger, and now I want to take my revenge."

"What am I to do?" asked the little man.

"Late at night, when the king's daughter is in bed, bring her here in her sleep, she shall do servant's work for me."

The little man said, "That is an easy thing for me to do, but a very dangerous thing for you, for if it is discovered, you will fare ill."
But the soldier would not be dissuaded and so the little man left.
When twelve o'clock had struck, the door sprang open, and the man carried in the princess.

"Aha! Are you there?" cried the soldier, "get to your work at once! Fetch the broom and sweep the chamber."
When she had done this, he ordered her to come to his chair, and then he stretched out his feet and said, "Pull off my boots."
He then made her pick them up and clean and brighten them.
She did everything he bade her, without opposition, silently and with half-shut eyes.
When the first cock crowed, the little man carried her back to the royal palace, and laid her in her bed.

Next morning when the princess arose she went to her father, and told him that she had had a very strange dream.

"I was carried through the streets with the rapidity of lightning," said she, "and taken into a soldier's room, and I had to wait upon him like a servant, sweep his room, clean his boots, and do all kinds of menial work. It was only a dream, and yet I am just as tired as if I really had done everything."

"The dream may have been true," said the king. "I will give you a piece of advice. Fill your pocket full of peas, and make a small hole in the pocket, and then if you are carried away again, they will fall out and leave a track in the streets."

Unseen by the king, the soldier's little man servant was standing beside him when he said that, and heard all. At night when the sleeping princess was again carried through the streets, some peas certainly did fall out of her pocket, but they made no track, for the crafty little man had just before scattered peas in every street there was. And again the princess was compelled to do servant's work until cock-crow.

Next morning the king sent his people out to seek the track, but it was all in vain, for in every street poor children were sitting, picking up peas, and saying, "It must have rained peas, last night."

"We must think of something else," said the king. "Keep your shoes on when you go to bed, and before you come back from the place where you are taken, hide one of them there, I will soon contrive to find it."

The little man heard this plot, and at night when the soldier again ordered him to bring the princess, revealed it to him, and told him that he knew of no expedient to counteract this stratagem, and that if the shoe were found in the soldier's house it would go badly with him.
"Do what I bid you." replied the soldier, and again this third night the princess was obliged to work like a servant, but before she went away, she hid her shoe under the bed.

Next morning the king had the entire town searched for his daughter's shoe. It was found at the soldier's, and the soldier himself, who at the entreaty of the little man had gone outside the gate, was soon brought back, and thrown into prison.

In his flight he had forgotten the most valuable things he had, the blue light and the gold, and had only one ducat in his pocket. And now loaded with chains, he was standing at the window of his dungeon, when he chanced to see one of his comrades passing by.
The soldier tapped at the pane of glass, and when this man came up, said to him, "Be so kind as to fetch me the small bundle I have left lying in the inn, and I will give you a ducat for doing it."
His comrade ran thither and brought him what he wanted.

As soon as the soldier was alone again, he lighted his pipe and summoned the little man.
"Have no fear," said the latter to his master.
"Go wheresoever they take you, and let them do what they will, only take the blue light with you."

Next day the soldier was tried, and though he had done nothing wicked, the judge condemned him to death.
When he was led forth to die, he begged a last favor of the king.

"What is it?" asked the king.

"That I may smoke one more pipe on my way."

"You may smoke three," answered the king, "but do not imagine that I will spare your life."

Then the soldier pulled out his pipe and lighted it at the blue light, and as soon as a few wreaths of smoke had ascended, the little man was there with a small cudgel in his hand, and said, "What does my lord command?"

"Strike down to earth that false judge there, and his constable, and spare not the king who has treated me so ill."

Then the little man fell on them like lightning, darting this way and that way, and whosoever was so much as touched by his cudgel fell to earth, and did not venture to stir again.

The king was terrified. He threw himself on the soldier's mercy, and merely to be allowed to live at all, gave him his kingdom for his own, and his daughter to wife.

Yes, that is the end of the story.
Part of me wants to add something more to it and a part of me thinks……well, what more is there to say???
What do you think??

Fathers Day tales.....

2011-05-22T18:35:00.003-07:00

Father's Day is just around the corner....sometime in June...specifically, in the US, Canada and the UK it's June 19th this year.
FYI, Father's day is celebrated in September in Australia and New Zealand .

Anyway, Father's Day is the perfect time to tell a story about fathers and their children.

Sooo, the next few blogs will features stories featuring fathers, some wise some foolish, some brave and some not so brave.

The first story I've chosen is one of my favorites. It's the story of Abiyoyo, a story written and sung by Peter Seeger. The story is based on a South African lullabye.
This vid shows Pete singing his story on the children's show Reading Rainbow.

You can find the text for the story at Pete Seeger.net
and of course you can always buy the book .....

The Dance for Water

2011-02-12T17:00:00.001-07:00

THERE was a frightful drought.
The rivers after a while dried up and even the springs gave no water.

The animals wandered around seeking drink, but to no avail. Nowhere was water to be found.

A great gathering of animals was held: Lion, Tiger, Wolf, Jackal, Elephant, all of them came together. What was to be done? That was the question. One had this plan, and another had that; but no plan seemed of value.

Finally one of them suggested: "Come, let all of us go to the dry river bed and dance; in that way we can tread out the water."

Good! Everyone was satisfied and ready to begin instantly, excepting Rabbit, who said, "I will not go and dance. All of you are mad to attempt to get water from the ground by dancing."

The other animals danced and danced, and ultimately danced the water to the surface.

How glad they were.

Everyone drank as much as he could, but Rabbit did not dance with them. So it was decided that Rabbit should have no water.

He laughed at them: "I will nevertheless drink some of your water."

That evening he proceeded leisurely to the river bed where the dance had been, and drank as much as he wanted. The following morning the animals saw the footprints of Rabbit in the ground, and Rabbit shouted to them: "Aha! I did have some of the water, and it was most refreshing and tasted fine."

Quickly all the animals were called together. What were they to do? How were they to get Rabbit in their hands? All had some means to propose; the one suggested this, and the other that.

Finally old Tortoise moved slowly forward, foot by foot: "I will catch Rabbit."

"You? How? What do you think of yourself?" shouted the others in unison.

"Rub my shell with pitch, and I will go to the edge of the water and lie down. I will then resemble a stone, so that when Rabbit steps on me his feet will stick fast."

"Yes! Yes! That's good."

And in a one, two, three, Tortoise's shell was covered with pitch, and foot by foot he moved away to the river. At the edge, close to the water, he lay down and drew his head into his shell.

Rabbit during the evening came to get a drink. "Ha!" he chuckled sarcastically," they are, after all, quite decent. Here they have placed a stone, so now I need not unnecessarily wet my feet."

Rabbit trod with his left foot on the stone, and there it stuck.

Tortoise then put his head out. "Ha! old Tortoise! And it's you, is it, that's holding me. But here I still have another foot. I'll give you a good clout." Rabbit gave Tortoise what he said he would with his right fore foot, hard and straight; and there his foot remained.

"I have yet a hind foot, and with it I'll kick you." Rabbit drove his bind foot down. This also rested on Tortoise where it struck.

"But still another foot remains, and now I'll tread you." He stamped his foot down, but it stuck like the others.
He used his head to hammer Tortoise, and his tail as a whip, but both met the same fate as his feet, so there he was tight and fast down to the pitch.

Tortoise now slowly turned himself round and foot by foot started for the other animals, with Rabbit on his back.

"Ha! ha! ha! Rabbit! How does it look now? Insolence does not pay after all," shouted the animals.

Now advice was sought. What should they do with Rabbit? He certainly must die. But how? One said, "Behead him"; another, "Some severe penalty."

"Rabbit, how are we to kill you?"

"It does not affect me," Rabbit said. "Only a shameful death please do not pronounce."

"And what is that?" they all shouted.

"To take me by my tail and dash my head against a stone; that I pray and beseech you don't do."

"No, but just so you'll die. That is decided."

It was decided Rabbit should die by taking him by his tail and dashing his head to pieces against some stone. But who is to do it?
Lion, because he is the most powerful one.

Good! Lion should do it. He stood up, walked to the front, and poor Rabbit was brought to him.
Rabbit pleaded and beseeched that he couldn't die such a miserable death.

Lion took Rabbit firmly by the tail and swung him around. The white skin slipped off from Rabbit, and there Lion stood with the white bit of skin and hair in his paw.

Rabbit was free.

Story Source: South-African Folk-Tales written by James A. Honeÿ; published in 1910

Although this is a rabbit tale from South Africa, it very much reminds me of a very popular Brer Rabbit tale. Does anyone else see the similarities between this story and Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby or Brer Rabbit and the Brair Patch?

The Parrot.... an English folktale

2010-12-26T23:14:00.000-07:00

There was once a grocer who had a beautiful parrot with green feathers, and it hung in a cage at his shop door.
It was a very shrewd, sensible bird, and very observing. But it was a female, and as such could not hold its tongue, but proclaimed aloud all that it knew, announcing to everyone who entered the shop the little circumstances which had fallen under its observation.

One day the parrot observed its master sanding the sugar. Presently in came a woman and asked for some brown sugar.

"Sand in the sugar! Sand in the sugar!" vociferated the bird, and the customer pocketed her money and rushed out of the shop.

The indignant grocer rushed to the cage and shook it well.

"You abominable bird, if you tell tales again, I will wring your neck!"
And again he shook the cage till the poor creature was all ruffled, and a cloud of its feathers was flying about the shop.

Next day it saw its master mixing cocoa powder with brick dust. Presently in came a customer for cocoa powder.

"Brick dust in the cocoa!" cried the parrot, eagerly and repeatedly, till the astonished customer believed it, and went away without his cocoa.

A repetition of the shaking of the cage ensued, with a warning that such another instance of tale-telling should certainly be punished with death. The parrot made internal resolutions never to speak again.

Presently, however, it observed its master making shop butter of lard colored with a little turmeric. In came a lady and asked for butter.

"Nice fresh butter, ma'am, fresh from the dairy," said the shopman

"Lard in the butter! Lard in the butter!" said the parrot.

"You scoundrel, you!" exclaimed the shopman, rushing at the cage.

Opening it, drawing forth the luckless bird, and wringing its neck, he cast it into the ash pit. But Polly was not quite dead, and after lying quiet for a few minutes, she lifted up her head and saw a dead cat in the pit.

"Halloo!" called the parrot. "What is the matter with you, Tom?"

No answer, for the vital spark of heavenly flame had quitted the mortal frame of the poor cat.

"Dead!" sighed the parrot. "Poor Tom! He too must have been afflicted with the love of truth. Ah me!"

She sat up and tried her wings. "They are sound. Great is truth in my own country, but in this dingy England it is at a discount, and lies are at a premium."

Then spreading her wings, Polly flew away. But whether she ever reached her own land, where truth was regarded with veneration, I have not heard.
No, she flew twice round the world in search of it, and could not find it.

I wonder whether she has found it now!

from Sabine Baring-Gould's "Household Tales" published in1866

The Fir Tree

2010-11-27T20:10:00.000-07:00

a Hans Christian Andersen tale (1835)

AR down in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting-place, grew a pretty little fir-tree; and yet it was not happy, it wished so much to be tall like its companions— the pines and firs which grew around it.

The sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little peasant children passed by, prattling merrily, but the fir-tree heeded them not. Sometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or strawberries, wreathed on a straw, and seat themselves near the fir-tree, and say, “Is it not a pretty little tree?” which made it feel more unhappy than before. And yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year; for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir-tree we can discover its age.

Still, as it grew, it complained, “Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the other trees, then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my top would over-look the wide world. I should have the birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity like my tall companions.” The tree was so discontented, that it took no pleasure in the warm sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and evening.

Sometimes, in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the ground, a hare would come springing along, and jump right over the little tree; and then how mortified it would feel!

Two winters passed, and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained unsatisfied, and would exclaim, “Oh, if I could but keep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for in the world!”

In the autumn, as usual, the wood-cutters came and cut down several of the tallest trees, and the young fir-tree, which was now grown to its full height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash. After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and bare, that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed upon wagons, and drawn by horses out of the forest.

“Where were they going? What would become of them?” The young fir-tree wished very much to know; so in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked, “Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?”

The swallows knew nothing, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head, and said, “Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. I think these must have been the trees; I assure you they were stately, very stately.”

“Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,” said the fir-tree. “What is the sea, and what does it look like?”

“It would take too much time to explain,” said the stork, flying quickly away.

“Rejoice in thy youth,” said the sunbeam; “rejoice in thy fresh growth, and the young life that is in thee.”

And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but the fir-tree regarded them not.

Christmas-time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some even smaller and younger than the fir-tree who enjoyed neither rest nor peace with longing to leave its forest home. These young trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and were also laid on wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest.

“Where are they going?” asked the fir-tree. “They are not taller than I am: indeed, one is much less; and why are the branches not cut off? Where are they going?”

“We know, we know,” sang the sparrows; “we have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things,—honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers.”

“And then,” asked the fir-tree, trembling through all its branches, “and then what happens?”

“We did not see any more,” said the sparrows; “but this was enough for us.”

“I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,” thought the fir-tree.
“It would be much better than crossing the sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh! when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year. Oh! that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how I feel.”

“Rejoice with us,” said the air and the sunlight. “Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air.”

But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day; and, winter and summer, its dark-green foliage might be seen in the forest, while passers by would say, “What a beautiful tree!”

A short time before Christmas, the discontented fir-tree was the first to fall.
As the axe cut through the stem, and divided the pith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and faintness, and forgetting all its anticipations of happiness, in sorrow at leaving its home in the forest.

It knew that it should never again see its dear old companions, the trees, nor the little bushes and many-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the birds.

Neither was the journey at all pleasant. The tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of a house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say, “We only want one, and this is the prettiest.”

Then came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir-tree into a large and beautiful apartment. On the walls hung pictures, and near the great stove stood great china vases, with lions on the lids. There were rocking chairs, silken sofas, large tables, covered with pictures, books, and playthings, worth a great deal of money,—at least, the children said so.

Then the fir-tree was placed in a large tub, full of sand; but green baize hung all around it, so that no one could see it was a tub, and it stood on a very handsome carpet. How the fir-tree trembled! “What was going to happen to him now?”

Some young ladies came, and the servants helped them to adorn the tree.

On one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each bag was filled with sweetmeats; from other branches hung gilded apples and walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above, and all round, were hundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened on the branches.

Dolls, exactly like real babies, were placed under the green leaves,—the tree had never seen such things before,—and at the very top was fastened a glittering star, made of tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful!

“This evening,” they all exclaimed, “how bright it will be!”

“Oh, that the evening were come,” thought the tree, “and the tapers lighted! then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees of the forest come to see me? I wonder if the sparrows will peep in at the windows as they fly? shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments summer and winter?”

But guessing was of very little use; it made his bark ache, and this pain is as bad for a slender fir-tree, as headache is for us.

At last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of light the tree presented!

It trembled so with joy in all its branches, that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burnt some of them. “Help! help!” exclaimed the young ladies, but there was no danger, for they quickly extinguished the fire.

After this, the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire frightened him; he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful ornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him. And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree; they were followed more silently by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with astonishment, and then they shouted for joy, till the room rang, and they danced merrily round the tree, while one present after another was taken from it.

“What are they doing? What will happen next?” thought the fir. At last the candles burnt down to the branches and were put out. Then the children received permission to plunder the tree.

Oh, how they rushed upon it, till the branches cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the ceiling, it must have been thrown down. The children then danced about with their pretty toys, and no one noticed the tree, except the children’s maid who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.

“A story, a story,” cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards the tree.

“Now we shall be in the green shade,” said the man, as he seated himself under it, “and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also, but I shall only relate one story; what shall it be? Ivede-Avede, or Humpty Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess.”

“Ivede-Avede,” cried some. “Humpty Dumpty,” cried others, and there was a fine shouting and crying out. But the fir-tree remained quite still, and thought to himself, “Shall I have anything to do with all this?” but he had already amused them as much as they wished.

Then the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty, how he fell down stairs, and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the children clapped their hands and cried, “Tell another, tell another,” for they wanted to hear the story of “Ivede-Avede;” but they only had “Humpty Dumpty.”

After this the fir-tree became quite silent and thoughtful; never had the birds in the forest told such tales as “Humpty Dumpty,” who fell down stairs, and yet married a princess.

“Ah! yes, so it happens in the world,” thought the fir-tree; he believed it all, because it was related by such a nice man. “Ah! well,” he thought, “who knows? perhaps I may fall down too, and marry a princess;” and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and fruit.

“To-morrow I will not tremble,” thought he; “I will enjoy all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Ivede-Avede.” And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night. In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in.

“Now,” thought the fir, “all my splendor is going to begin again.” But they dragged him out of the room and up stairs to the garret, and threw him on the floor, in a dark corner, where no daylight shone, and there they left him.

“What does this mean?” thought the tree, “what am I to do here? I can hear nothing in a place like this,” and he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one came near him, and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put away large boxes in a corner.

So the tree was completely hidden from sight as if it had never existed. “It is winter now,” thought the tree, “the ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I dare say, until spring comes.

How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me! Still I wish this place were not so dark, as well as lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. Oh! it is terrible lonely here.”

“Squeak, squeak,” said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the tree; then came another; and they both sniffed at the fir-tree and crept between the branches.
“Oh, it is very cold,” said the little mouse, “or else we should be so comfortable here, shouldn’t we, you old fir-tree?”
“I am not old,” said the fir-tree, “there are many who are older than I am.”
“Where do you come from? and what do you know?” asked the mice, who were full of curiosity. “Have you seen the most beautiful places in the world, and can you tell us all about them? and have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from the ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there, and go in thin and come out fat.”

“I know nothing of that place,” said the fir-tree, “but I know the wood where the sun shines and the birds sing.” And then the tree told the little mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their lives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they said, “What a number of things you have seen? you must have been very happy.”

“Happy!” exclaimed the fir-tree, and then as he reflected upon what he had been telling them, he said, “Ah, yes! after all those were happy days.” But when he went on and related all about Christmas-eve, and how he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, “How happy you must have been, you old fir-tree.”
“I am not old at all,” replied the tree, “I only came from the forest this winter, I am now checked in my growth.”

“What splendid stories you can relate,” said the little mice. And the next night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell. The more he talked the more he remembered, and then he thought to himself, “Those were happy days, but they may come again. Humpty Dumpty fell down stairs, and yet he married the princess; perhaps I may marry a princess too.” And the fir-tree thought of the pretty little birch-tree that grew in the forest, which was to him a real beautiful princess.

“Who is Humpty Dumpty?” asked the little mice. And then the tree related the whole story; he could remember every single word, and the little mice was so delighted with it, that they were ready to jump to the top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but they said, it was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for it made them also think less of it.
“Do you know only one story?” asked the rats.
“Only one,” replied the fir-tree; “I heard it on the happiest evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time.”
“We think it is a very miserable story,” said the rats. “Don’t you know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom.”
“No,” replied the tree.
“Many thanks to you then,” replied the rats, and they marched off.

The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed, and said, “It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place.” But would this ever happen?

Yes; one morning people came to clear out the garret, the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the corner, and thrown roughly on the garret floor; then the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight shone.

“Now life is beginning again,” said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried down stairs and taken into the courtyard so quickly, that it forgot to think of itself, and could only look about, there was so much to be seen. The court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden-trees were in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there, crying, “Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming,”—but it was not the fir-tree they meant. “Now I shall live,” cried the tree, joyfully spreading out its branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles.

The star of gold paper still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine. In the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had danced round the tree at Christmas, and had been so happy. The youngest saw the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off the tree.

“Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree,” said the child, treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots. And the tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story of “Humpty Dumpty.” “Past! past!” said the old tree; “Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too late.”

Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot.

Then the children, who were at play, came and seated themselves in front of the fire, and looked at it and cried, “Pop, pop.” But at each “pop,” which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest; and of Christmas evening, and of “Humpty Dumpty,” the only story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was consumed. The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore the golden star on his breast, with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest evening of its existence.

Now all was past; the tree’s life was past, and the story also,—for all stories must come to an end at last.

Other Winter Holiday Stories:

The Legend of the Silver Pinecones

The Legend of La Befana

The Legend of the Christmas Spider

Clark Terry does "Mumbles" ( LEGENDS OF JAZZ)

2010-10-11T10:53:00.001-07:00

Now this is truly unique storytelling!
You have to watch the whole vid. I loooooove this!!
Enjoy!

This is Clark Terry performing the same song back in the day. Recorded in Finland March 23, 1965.

"Cap o' Rushes" or "Like Meat Loves Salt".......a tale from England

2010-10-02T04:05:00.001-07:00

(I love this story! It's a type of Cinderella tale, it, or one of it's many variations, was used by Shakespeare when he wrote King Lear and it mentions cooking! What more could you want in a story?)

Well, there was once a very rich gentleman, and he'd three darters [daughters]. And he thought to see how fond they was of him. So he says to the first, "How much do you love me, my dear?"

"Why," says she, "as I love my life."

"That's good," says he. So he says to the second, "How much do you love me, my dear?"

"Why," says she, "better nor all the world."

"That's good," says he.

So he says to the third, "How much do you love me, my dear?"

"Why," she says, "I love you as fresh meat loves salt," says she.

Well, he were that angry. "You don't love me at all," says he, "and in my house you stay no more." So he drove her out there and then, and shut the door in her face.

Well, she went away, on and on, till she came to a fen. And there she gathered a lot of rushes, and made them into a cloak kind o', with a hood to cover her from head to foot, and to hide her fine clothes. And then she went on and on till she came to a great house.

"Do you want a maid?" says she.

"No, we don't," says they.

"I hain't nowhere to go," says she, "and I'd ask no wages, and do any sort o' work," says she.

"Well," says they, "if you like to wash the pots and scrape the saucepans, you may stay," says they.

So she stayed there, and washed the pots and scraped the saucepans, and did all the dirty work. And because she gave no name, they called her Cap o' Rushes.

Well, one day there was to be a great dance a little way off, and the servants was let go and look at the grand people. Cap o' Rushes said she was too tired to go, so she stayed at home.
But when they was gone, she offed with her cap o' rushes, and cleaned herself, and went to the dance. And no one there was so finely dressed as her.

Well, who should be there but her master's son, and what should he do but fall in love with her, the minute he set eyes on her. He wouldn't dance with anyone else.
But before the dance were done, Cap o' Rushes she stepped off, and away she went home. And when the other maids was back, she was framin' [pretending] to be asleep with her cap o' rushes on.

Well, next morning, they says to her, "You did miss a sight, Cap o' Rushes!"

"What was that?" says she.

"Why the beautifullest lady you ever see, dressed right gay and ga'. The young master, he never took his eyes off of her."

"Well, I should ha' liked to have seen her," says Cap o' Rushes.

"Well, there's to be another dance this evening, and perhaps she'll be there."

But come the evening, Cap o' Rushes said she was too tired to go with them. Howsumdever, when they was gone, she offed with her cap o' rushes, and cleaned herself, and away she went to the dance.

The master's son had been reckoning on seeing her, and he danced with no one else, and never took his eyes off of her.

But before the dance was over, she slipped off, and home she went, and when the maids came back, she framed to be asleep with her cap o' rushes on.

Next day they says to her again, "Well, Cap o' Rushes, you should ha' been there to see the lady. There she was again, gay an' ga', and the young master he never took his eyes off of her."

Well there," says she, "I should ha' liked to ha' seen her."

"Well," says they, "there's a dance again this evening, and you must go with us, for she's sure to be there."

Well, come the evening, Cap o' Rushes said she was too tired to go, and do what they would, she stayed at home. But when they was gone, she offed with her cap o' rushes, and cleaned herself, and away she went to the dance.

The master's son was rarely glad when he saw her. He danced with none but her, and never took his eyes off her. When she wouldn't tell him her name, nor where she came from, he gave her a ring, and told her if he didn't see her again he should die.

Well, afore the dance was over, off she slipped, and home she went, and when the maids came home she was framing to be asleep with her cap o' rushes on.

Well, next day they says to her, "There, Cap o' Rushes, you didn't come last night, and now you won't see the lady, for there's no more dances."

Well, I should ha' rarely liked to ha' seen her," says she.

The master's son he tried every way to find out where the lady was gone, but go where he might, and ask whom he might, he never heard nothing about her. And he got worse and worse for the love of her till he had to keep his bed.

"Make some gruel for the young master," they says to the cook. "He's dying for love of the lady."

The cook she set about making it, when Cap o' Rushes came in.

"What are you a' doin' on?" says she.

"I'm going to make some gruel for the young master," says the cook, "for he's dying for love of the lady."

"Let me make it," says Cap o' Rushes.

Well, the cook wouldn't at first, but at last she said "yes," and Cap o' Rushes made the gruel. And when she had made it, she slipped the ring into it on the sly, before the cook took it upstairs.

The young man, he drank it, and saw the ring at the bottom.

"Send for the cook," says he. So up she comes.

"Who made this here gruel?" says he.

"I did," says the cook, for she were frightened, and he looked at her.

"No, you didn't," says he. "Say who did it, and you shan't be harmed."

"Well, then, 'twas Cap o' Rushes," says she.

So Cap o' Rushes came.
"Did you make the gruel?" says he."

"Yes, I did," says she.

"Where did you get this ring?" says he.

"From him as gave it me," says she.

"Who are you then?" says the young man.

"I'll show you," says she.

And she offed with her cap o' rushes, and there she was in her beautiful clothes.
Well, the master's son he got well very soon, and they was to be married in a little time. It was to be a very grand wedding, and everyone was asked, far and near. And Cap o' Rushes' father was asked. But she never told nobody who she was.

But afore the wedding she went to the cook, and say she, "I want you to dress every dish without a mite o' salt."

"That will be rarely nasty," says the cook.

"That don't signify," says she.

"Very well," says the cook.

Well, the wedding day came, and they was married. And after they was married, all the company sat down to their vittles.
When they began to eat the meat, that was so tasteless they couldn't eat it. But Cap o' Rushes father, he tried first one dish and then another, and then he burst out crying.

"What's the matter?" said the master's son to him.

"Oh!" says he, "I had a daughter. And I asked her how much she loved me. And she said, 'As much as fresh meat loves salt.' And I turned her from my door, for I thought she didn't love me. And now I see she loved me best of all. And she may be dead for aught I know."

"No, father, here she is," says Cap o' Rushes.

And she goes up to him and puts her arms round him. And so they was happy ever after.

this story and similar ones found here
picture found at ConceptArt.org

The Squire's Bride

2010-09-13T18:27:00.000-07:00

As I am sure you all know, there's more than one way to tell a story.
One of my favorite storytellers is Heather Forest. I love the way she takes traditional folktales and makes them her own by setting them to music.

Here is a video of Heather telling an amusing Norwegian folktale called The Squire's Daughter.

I have included the traditional written version of the story below the video to give you an idea of how Heather Forest makes the story her own. Enjoy!

The Squire's Daughter

ONCE UPON a time there was a rich squire who owned a large farm, and had plenty of silver at the bottom of his chest and money in the bank besides; but he felt there was something wanting, for he was a widower.

One day the daughter of a neighboring farmer was working for him in the hayfield. The squire saw her and liked her very much, and as she was the child of poor parents he thought if he only hinted that he wanted her she would be ready to marry him at once.

So he told her he had been thinking of getting married again.

"Aye! one may think of many things," said the girl, laughing slyly.

In her opinion the old fellow ought to be thinking of something that behooved him better than getting married.

"Well, you see, I thought that you should be my wife!"

"No, thank you all the same," said she, "that's not at all likely."

The squire was not accustomed to be gainsaid, and the more she refused him the more determined he was to get her.

But as he made no progress in her favor he sent for her father and told him that if he could arrange the matter with his daughter he would forgive him the money he had lent him, and he would also give him the piece of land which lay close to his meadow into the bargain.

"Yes, you may be sure I'll bring my daughter to her senses," said the father. "She is only a child, and she doesn't know what's best for her." But all his coaxing and talking did not help matters. She would not have the squire, she said, if he sat buried in gold up to his ears.

The squire waited day after day, but at last he became so angry and impatient that he told the father, if he expected him to stand by his promise, he would have to put his foot down and settle the matter now, for he would not wait any longer.

The man knew no other way out of it but to let the squire get everything ready for the wedding; and when the parson and the wedding guests had arrived the squire should send for the girl as if she were wanted for some work on the farm. When she arrived she would have to be married right away, so that she would have no time to think it over.

The squire thought this was well and good, and so he began brewing and baking and getting ready for the wedding in grand style. When the guests had arrived the squire called one of his farm lads and told him to run down to his neighbor and ask him to send him what he had promised.

"But if you are not back in a twinkling," he said, shaking his fist at him, "I'll-"

He did not say more, for the lad ran off as if he had been shot at.

"My master has sent me to ask for that you promised him," said the lad, when he got to the neighbor, "but there is no time to be lost, for he is terribly busy to-day."

"Yes, yes! Run down into the meadow and take her with you. There she goes!" answered the neighbor.

The lad ran off and when he came to the meadow he found the daughter there raking the hay.

"I am to fetch what your father has promised my master," said the lad.

"Ah, ha!" thought she. "Is that what they are up to?"

"Ah, indeed!" she said. "I suppose it's that little bay mare of ours. You had better go and take her. She stands there tethered on the other side of the pea field," said the girl.

The boy jumped on the back of the bay mare and rode home at full gallop.

"Have you got her with you?" asked the squire.

"She is down at the door," said the lad.

"Take her up to the room my mother had," said the squire.

"But master, how can that be managed?" said the lad.

"You must just do as I tell you," said the squire. "If you cannot manage her alone you must get the men to help you," for he thought the girl might turn obstreperous.

When the lad saw his master's face he knew it would be no use to gainsay him. So he went and got all the farm tenants who were there to help him. Some pulled at the head and the forelegs of the mare and others pushed from behind, and at last they got her up the stairs and into the room. There lay all the wedding finery ready.

"Now, that's done master!" said the lad; "but it was a terrible job. It was the worst I have ever had here on the farm.

"Never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing," said his master. "Now send the women up to dress her."

"But I say master-!" said the lad.

"None of your talk!" said the squire. "Tell them they must dress her and mind and not forget either wreath or crown.

The lad ran into the kitchen.

"Look here, lasses," he said; "you must go upstairs and dress up the bay mare as bride. I expect the master wants to give the guests a laugh."

The women dressed the bay mare in everything that was there, and then the lad went and told his master that now she was ready dressed, with wreath and crown and all.

"Very well, bring her down!" said the squire. "I will receive her myself at the door," said he.

There was a terrible clatter on the stairs; for that bride, you know, had no silken shoes on.

When the door was opened and the squire's bride entered the parlor you can imagine there was a good deal of tittering and grinning.

And as for the squire you may he sure line had had enough of that bride, and they say he never went courting again.

By P. C. Asbjornsen

All Things are Connected.....The Man Who Hated Frogs

2010-09-05T14:42:00.002-07:00

This story is based on a folktale.
This vid was produced by Sesame Street maaaaany years ago. (I feel really old because I remember seeing this.)
The moral of this tale is that all things are connected.
Enjoy!

Baba Yaga.....a folktale from Russia

2010-08-14T03:24:00.002-07:00

There once lived a man and a woman. The woman died and the man married a second time, but from his first marriage he had a daughter. The mean stepmother didn't like her, beat her, and tried to think of ways to get rid of her for good.

Once, when the father was away somewhere, the stepmother told the girl: "Go to your step-aunt's, my sister's, ask her for a needle and some thread so that I can sew you a shirt." For that aunt was Baba-Yaga with the Bony Leg.

But the girl wasn't stupid, and first she stopped at her aunt's.
"Hello, dear aunt!"
"Hello, my darling! What brings you?"
"Mother sent me to her sister's to ask for a needle and some thread so she can sew me a shirt."

So her aunt told her what to do. "There will be a birch, dear niece, and it will slap you in the face. You just put a ribbon on it. Then the gates will screech and flap. You just pour some oil on the hinges. The dogs will bite you. You just throw them some bread. The cat will scratch your eyes. You just give it some ham."

The girl set off. She walked for a long time, and finally arrived.

A small house stood, and Baba Yaga with the Bony Leg sat in it, weaving.

"Hello, dear aunt!"
"Hello, my darling!"
"Mother sent me to ask for a needle and some thread so she can sew me a shirt."
"All right, well for now, sit down and do some weaving."

So the girl sat at the weaving loom, and Baba Yaga left to give order to her maid. "Go, heat up the bathhouse and give my niece a bath, and make sure she's nice and clean. I want her for my breakfast."

The girl sat still as a statue, frightened nearly to death, and asked the maid: "Dearest! Don't spend so much time lighting the wood as pouring water on it, and don't hurry hauling water, use a seive for it!" And she gave her a kerchief.

Baba Yaga was waiting. She walked up to the window and asked: "Are you weaving, dear niece, are you weaving, my darling?" "Yes, I'm weaving, auntie, I'm weaving, my dearest!"

Baba Yaga stepped away.

The girl gave the cat some ham and asked it: "Isn't there a way to get out of here?"
"Here's a comb and a towel," the cat said, "take them and run away; Baba Yaga will run after you. You put your ear to the ground, and as soon as you hear that she's close, throw the towel first. It will turn into a great wide river. If Baba Yaga crosses the river and starts catching up again, put your ear to the ground again, and as soon as you hear that she's close, throw the comb. It will turn into a deep, dark forest. She won't be able to get through it!"

The girl took the towel and the comb and ran. The dogs wanted to tear her to pieces, but she threw them some bread, and they let her pass. The gates wanted to close, but she poured some oil on the hinges, and they let her through. The birch wanted to slap her in the face and blind her, but she tied a ribbon around it, and it let her pass.

Meanwhile, the cat sat at the weaving loom and started weaving. He didn't weave so much as he tied the threads into knots.
Baba Yaga walked up to the window and asked: "Are you weaving, dear niece, are you weaving, my darling?"

"Yes, I'm weaving, auntie, I'm weaving, my dearest," the cat answered in his rough voice.

Baba Yaga ran into the house. She saw that the girl was gone, and the started hitting the cat and yell at him -- why didn't he scratch out her eyes?

"How many years have I served you," the cat said, "you never even gave me a bone, and she gave me some ham."

Baba Yaga became furious at the dogs, the gate, the birch, and the maid, and she started hitting and beating them.

The dogs told her: "How many years have we served you, you never even gave us a burnt crust, and she gave us some bread."

The gate said: "How many years have I served you, you never even poured water on my hinges, and she poured oil on them."

The birch said: "How many years have I served you, you never even tied a string around me, and she tied a ribbon."

The maid said: "How many years have I served you, you never even gave me a rag, and she gave me a kerchief."

Baba Yaga with the Bony Leg quickly sat in her mortar, hurried it along with the pestle, and swept her trail with a broom, and set off on the trail of the girl.

The girl put her ear to the ground, and heard that Baba Yaga was chasing after her, and that she was close already. She threw the towel. It turned into a great wide river. Baba Yaga arrived at the river and she gnashed her teeth in anger. She returned home, gathered her bulls, and brought them to the river. The bulls drank up the entire river until it was dry. Baba Yaga set off once again in pursuit.

The girl put her ear to the ground again, and heard that Baba Yaga was close. She threw the comb. It turned into a deep, frightening forest. Baba Yaga began gnawing on it, but try as she may, she couldn't gnaw through it. She turned around and went home.

Meanwhile, the man returned home and asked: "Where is my daughter?"
"She went to visit her aunt," the stepmother said.

A little later, the girl arrived home.
"Where were you?" her father asked her.

"Oh, daddy!" she said. "This is the way it was. Mother sent me to my aunt's to get a needle and some thread to sew me a shirt, but her aunt turned out to be Baba Yaga, and she wanted to eat me."

"How did you get away, daughter?"

So the girl told him. As soon as the man found out everything, he became very angry at his wife and shot her to death. From then on, he lived happily ever after with his daughter, and amassed a great fortune.

And I was there, and I drank mead and beer: it ran down my mustache, but didn't get into my mouth.

Baba Yaga (A Russian Folktale)

Coyote's Eyes....a Pima tale (Arizona)

2010-07-14T20:02:00.000-07:00

When Coyote was traveling about one day, he saw a small bird. The bird was hopping about contentedly and Coyote thought,

"What a beautiful bird. It moves about so gracefully."

He drew nearer to the bird and asked, "What beautiful things are you working with?" but the bird could not understand Coyote.

After a while the bird took out his two eyes and threw them straight up into the air, like two stones. It looked upward but had no eyes. Then the bird said,

"Come, my eyes. Come quickly, down into my head." The eyes fell down into the bird's head, just where they belonged, but were much brighter than before.

Coyote thought he could brighten his eyes. He asked the bird to take out his eyes. The bird took out Coyote's eyes, held them for a moment in his hands, and threw them straight up into the air. Coyote looked up and called,

"Come back, my eyes. Come quickly." They at once fell back into his head and were much brighter than before. Coyote wanted to try it again, but the bird did not wish to. But Coyote persisted. Then the bird said,

"Why should I work for you, Coyote? No, I will work no more for you." But Coyote still persisted, and the bird took out his eyes and threw them up. Coyote cried,

"Come, my eyes, come back to me."

But his eyes continued to rise into the air, and the bird began to go away. Coyote began to weep. But the bird was annoyed, and called back,

"Go away now. I am tired of you. Go away and get other eyes."

But Coyote refused to go and entreated the bird to find eyes for him. At last the bird gathered gum from a pinon tree and rolled it between his hands and put it in Coyote's eye holes, so that he could see. But his eyes had been black and very bright. His new eyes were yellow.

"Now," said the bird, it "go away. You cannot stay here any longer."

(from Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson published in 1912)

Happy Fourth of July!..... Why Cockerels Crow Every Morning, a tale from Thailand

2010-07-01T02:25:00.001-07:00

Long ago when the Earth was new, there were ten suns in the sky. The ten suns all rose at the same time, so the Earth was a very bright place. But it was also very hot; very hot indeed!
It was so unbearably hot that people, animals and plants suffered and died. The people who were left wanted to find a way to kill some of the suns to reduce the light and the heat so it was more comfortable.
Eventually, they found a man who they thought could do the job. He was an archer, a very famous archer.
His name was Dan.

Every day, Dan would shoot at the suns; he shot one arrow at every sun, on the hour every hour. As the days passed, Dan became more and more accurate and the suns became more and more nervous. They didn’t want to be punctured! One day, the suns decided they had had enough of dodging arrows and took themselves off to a world where their light and warmth would be better appreciated.

Of course, without the suns’ rays it was very dark and very cold on the Earth.
Nothing could live in the darkness and the people, animals and plants began to die. The people realized how stupid and selfish they had been and were very sorry. They begged the ten suns to come back and shine their light and heat on the Earth.
But nothing happened.
Day after day, the people shouted, prayed, set off fireworks, sang songs and lit bonfires.
Still nothing happened; the suns stayed away.

One day, a cockerel thought he would try his drumstick at bringing the suns back.
He began crowing as loudly as he could. He crowed and crowed and crowed.
Now, it’s a well-known fact that suns have very sensitive hearing and the racket that was coming from the Earth did nothing for them. Nothing at all except for one sun. It was tone deaf and was strangely attracted to the noise the cockerel was making. The sun peered over the eastern horizon to better hear the cockerel’s calling. The closer the sun crept the more the sun liked the sound. Eventually the sun rose completely in the sky and it listened and it really did like the cockerel’s song!

The light melted the darkness and the Earth warmed up. The people were amazed and, there and then, made a bargain with the cockerel that he should start crowing early every morning to attract the sun into the sky.
In exchange, the people would look after and feed the cockerel and his hens forever or, for as long as the cockerel sang for the sun.

And that, ladies, gentlemen, and children of the world, is why cockerels crow every morning.
Not just to attract the sun, but to ensure there’s an ample supply of corn.
Once a cockerel makes a bargain you can be sure it’ll be kept.
Thankfully.

story found here

Brer Rabbit Takes Some Excercise

2010-06-26T04:37:00.000-07:00

One night while the little boy was sitting in Uncle Remus's cabin, waiting for the old man to finish his hoe-cake, and refresh his memory as to the further adventures of Brother Rabbit, his friends and his enemies, something dropped upon the top of the house with a noise like the crack of a pistol. The little boy jumped, but Uncle Remus looked up and exclaimed, "Ah-yi!" in a tone of triumph.

"What was that, Uncle Remus?" the child asked, after waiting a moment to see what else would happen.

"New from Jack Frost, honey. When that hickory-nut tree out there hears him coming, she begins to drop what she's got. I'm mighty glad," he continued, scraping the burnt crust from hi hoe-cake with an old case-knife. "I'm mighty glad hickory nuts aren't as big and heavy as grindstones."

He waited a moment to see what effect this queer statement would have on the child.

"Yes, sir, I'm might glad, that I am. Because if hickory nuts were as big as grindstones, this here old calaboose would be leaking long before Christmas."

Just then another hickory nut dropped upon the roof, and the little boy jumped again. This seemed to amuse Uncle Remus, and he laughed until he was near to choking himself with his smoking hoe-cake.

"You are doing exactly what old Brer Rabbit did, I declare to gracious if you aren't," the old man cried, as soon as he could get his breath. "Exactly for the world."

The child was immensely flattered, and at once he wanted to know how Brother Rabbit did. Uncle Remus was in such good humor that he needed no coaxing. He pushed his spectacles back on he forehead, wiped him mouth on his sleeve, and began:

It came about that early one morning towards the fall of the year Brer Rabbit was stirring around in the woods after some bergamot to use for making him some hair grease. The wind was blowing so cold that it made him feel right frisky, and every time he heard the bushes rattle, it seemed to scare him. He was going on this way, hoppity-skippity, when by and by he heard Mr. Man cutting on a tree way off in the woods. He sat up, Brer Rabbit did, and listened first with one ear and then with the other.

The man, he cut and cut, and Brer Rabbit, he listened and listened. By and by, while all this was going on, down came the tree: kubber-lang-bang-blam! Brer Rabbit, he took and jumped just like you jumped, and not only that, he made a break, he did, and he leaped out of as though the dogs were after him.

"Was he scared, Uncle Remus?" asked the little boy.

"Scared! Who? Him? Shoo! Don't you fret yourself about Brer Rabbit, honey. In those days there was nothing going that could scare Brer Rabbit. To be sure, he took care of himself, and if you know anyone who refuses to take care of himself, I would mighty well like you to point him out. Indeed I would!" Uncle Remus seemed to boil over wit argumentative indignation.

Well then, he continued, Brer Rabbit ran until he sort of got heated up, and about the time he was getting ready to squat and catch his wind, who should he meet but Brer Coon going home after sitting up with old Brer Bull-Frog. Brer Coon saw him running, and he hailed him, "What's your hurry, Brer Rabbit?"

"Haven't got time to tarry."

"Folks sick?"

"No, my Lord! Haven't got time to tarry!"

"Trying out your suppleness?"

"No, my Lord! Haven't got time to tarry!"

"Do pray, Brer Rabbit, tell me the news!"

"Mighty big fuss back there in the woods. Haven't got time to tarry!"

This made Brer Coon feel might skittish, because he was far from home, and he just leaped out, he did, and he went a-boiling through the woods. Brer Coon hadn't gone far until he met Brer Fox.

"Hey, Brer Coon, where are you going?"

"Haven't got time to tarry!"

"Going to the doctor?"

"No, my Lord! Haven't got time to tarry!"

Do pry, Brer Coon, tell me the news."

Mighty queer racket back there in the woods! Haven't got time to tarry!

With that, Brer Fox leaped out, he did, and fairly split the wind. He hadn't gone far until he met Brer Wolf.

"Hey, Brer Fox! Stop and rest yourself!"

"Haven't got time to tarry!"

"Who is wanting the doctor?"

"No one, my Lord! Haven't got time to tarry."

"Do pray, Brer Fox, good or bad, tell me the news."

"Mighty curious fuss back there in the woods! Haven't got time to tarry!"

With that, Brer Wolf shook himself loose from the face of the earth, and he didn't get far until he met Brer Bear. Brer Bear, he asked, and Brer Wolf made an answer, and by and by Brer Bear snorted and ran off. And, bless gracious, it wasn't long before the last one of the creatures was a-skaddling through the woods as though the Old Boy were after them, and all because Brer Rabbit heard Mr. Man cut a tree down.

They ran and they ran, Uncle Remus went on, until they them to Brer Terrapin's house, and they sort of slacked up, because they had nearly lost their wind. Brer Terrapin, he up an asked them where they were going, and they said there was a monstrous, terrifying racket back there in the woods. Brer Terrapin, he asked what it sounded like. One said he didn't know; the other said he didn't know; and they all said they didn't know. This made old Brer Terrapin laugh way down in his insides, and he up and said, "You all can run along if you feel skittish," he said. "After I cook my breakfast and wash up the dishes, and if I get wind of any suspicious racket, maybe I might just take down my parasol and follow along after you," he said.

When the creatures came to ask one another about who started the news, it went right back to Brer Rabbit, but low and behold, Brer Rabbit wasn't there! It turned out that Brer Coon was the one who had seen him last. Then they got to laying the blame of it on one or the other, until they almost began to fight, but then old Brer Terrapin, he up and said that if they wanted to straighten it out, they'd better go see Brer Rabbit.

All the creatures agreed, the they started out for Brer Rabbit's house. When they got there, Brer Rabbit was sitting cross-legged on the front porch winking his eyes at the sun.

Brer Bear spoke up, "What made you fool me, Brer Rabbit?"

"Fool who, Brer Bear?"

"Me, Brer Rabbit, that's who."

"This is the first time I've seen you today, Brer Bear, and you are more than welcome at that."

They all asked him and got the same answer, and then Brer Coon put in, "What made you fool me, Brer Rabbit?"

"How did I fool you, Brer Coon?"

"You made like there was a big racket, Brer Rabbit."

"What kind of a racket, Brer Rabbit?"

"Ah-yi! You should have asked me that first, Brer Coon."

"I'm asking you now, Brer Rabbit."

"Mr. Man cut a tree down, Brer Coon."

Of course this made Brer Coon feel like a natural-born slink, and it wasn't long before all the creatures made their bows to Brer Rabbit and moseyed off home.

"Brother Rabbit had the best of it all along," said the little boy, after waiting to see whether there was a sequel to the story.

"Oh, did he ever!" exclaimed Uncle Remus. "Brer Rabbit was a mighty man in those days."

* Source: Joel Chandler Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus: Myths and Legends of the Old Plantation published in 1883
This version found online at End of the World Tales (D.L. Ashliman)

The She-Wolf ....a tale from Croatia

2010-05-20T16:04:00.000-07:00

There was an enchanted mill, so that no one could stay there, because a she-wolf always haunted it. A soldier went once into the mill to sleep. He made a fire in the parlor, went up into the garret above, bored a hole with an auger in the floor, and peeped down into the parlor.
A she-wolf came in and looked about the mill to see whether she could find anything to eat. She found nothing, and then went to the fire, and said, "Skin down! Skin down! Skin down!" She raised herself upon her hind-legs, and her skin fell down. She took the skin, and hung it on a peg, and out of the wolf came a damsel. The damsel went to the fire, and fell asleep there.

He came down from the garret, took the skin, nailed it fast to the mill-wheel, then came into the mill, shouted over her, and said, "Good morning, damsel! How do you do?

She began to scream, "Skin on me! Skin on me! Skin on me!" But the skin could not come down, for it was fast nailed.
The pair married and had two children.

As soon as the elder son got to know that his mother was a wolf, he said to her, "Mamma! Mamma! I have heard that you are a wolf."

His mother replied, "What nonsense are you talking! How can you say that I am a wolf?"

The father of the two children went one day into the field to plow, and his son said, "Papa, let me, too, go with you."

His father said, "Come."

When they had come to the field, the son asked his father, "Papa, is it true that our mother is a wolf?"

The father said, "It is."

The son inquired, "And where is her skin?"

His father said, "There it is, on the mill-wheel."

No sooner had the son got home, than he said at once to his mother, "Mamma! Mamma! You are a wolf! I know where your skin is."

His mother asked him, "Where is my skin?"

He said, "There, on the mill-wheel."

His mother said to him, "Thank you, sonny, for rescuing me." Then she went away, and was never heard of more.

from Sixty Folk-Tales from Exclusively Slavonic Sources published in 1889

Reading is Fun Week...May 12-18

2010-05-07T14:10:00.001-07:00

May 12th through the 18th is Reading Is Fun Week also known as RIF. RIF is a time to share the joy of reading with children. It is also a time to help kids discover how much fun reading can be.

During RIF week, RIF programs across the country will host book distributions and at each distribution, children will get to choose a free book that they can take home and keep!

If you're looking for good books for kids to read be sure to check out my Listmania Book lists, the links I have on the side of this blog (look to your right) and all of the books I have linked below. Most of the books below are books that I have read myself and truly enjoy.
~~(sorry no story this time but definitely the next time!!)~~
Dang it! I couldn't stand it. I had to give you some kind of story, so I'm linking you to Fairy Gifts a wonderful story (yes it's on my other blog) from Andrew Lang's Green Fairy book. There are also crafts after the story if you feel like making something. Try it....it's fun!

Tell Me A Story Day....plus a neverending story and a tale of wisdom

2010-04-23T09:41:00.001-07:00

April 27th is Tell Me A Story day in the U.S.
Tell a Story Day celebrates story-telling of all kinds.
It doesn't matter if its fiction or non-fiction, a tall tale, a folk tale or a fairy tale. April 27th is the day to tell any and all types of stories. The stories can be told from a book, from memory or from a blog (hint,hint). It doesn't matter as long as the stories are told.
In Scotland and England, there is a National Tell Me A Story Day which is celebrated October 27th, exactly 6 months after the U.S. holiday.

The Endless Tale...a tale from England (Nottinghamshire)

Once upon a time there was a king who had a very beautiful daughter.
Many princes wished to marry her, but the king said she should marry the one who could tell him an endless tale, and those lovers that could not tell an endless tale should be beheaded.

Many young men came, and tried to tell such a story, but they could not tell it, and were beheaded. But one day a poor man who had heard of what the king had said came to the court and said he would try his luck.

The king agreed, and the poor man began his tale in this way:
"There was once a man who built a barn that covered many acres, and that reached almost to the sky.
He left just one little hole in the top, through which there was only room for one locust to creep in at a time, and then he filled the barn full of corn to the very top.
When he had filled the barn there came a locust through the hole in the top and fetched one grain of corn, and then another locust came and fetched another grain of corn."

And so the poor man went on saying, "Then another locust came and fetched another grain of corn," for a long time, so that in the end the king grew very weary, and said the tale was endless, and told the poor man he might marry his daughter.

The Three Proverbs....a tale from Poland

A rich man was once walking about in his garden. He was cheerful and happy. Suddenly he noticed a small bird that had been captured in a small net. He took hold of it and was more than a little surprised when it began to speak, saying,

"Give me my freedom, dear man! Of what use is it to you to lock me in a cage? Looking at me will not please you, for I do not have beautiful feathers. I cannot entertain you, for I do not sing like other birds. And I cannot provide you with nourishment. I am much too small for that. But I will tell you three wise teachings if you will give my freedom."

The master of the garden looked at the little creature and said,
"If you do not sing then of course you cannot entertain me. Let me hear your wisdom, and if it teaches me anything, I will give you your freedom."

Then the little bird said,
"First: Do not grieve over things that have already happened.
Second: Do not wish for that which is unattainable.
Third: Do not believe in that which cannot be possible."

Then the master of the garden said, "You have indeed taught me something. I will give you your freedom."
Letting the bird fly away, he thought seriously about its words.
Then he heard it laughing quietly. Its voice came from a tree where the bird was sitting.

"Why are you laughing so cheerfully?" shouted the man.

"About my easily won freedom," answered the bird, "and more than that, about the foolishness of humans who believe they are smarter than all other creatures. If you had been smarter, only just as smart as I am, then you would now be the richest man."

"How would that have been possible?" asked the master of the garden.

The bird replied, "If, instead of giving me my freedom, you had kept me, for in my body I have a diamond the size of a hen's egg."

The man stood there as though he were petrified.
After recovering from the surprise, he began to speak, "You think that you are happy because I gave you your freedom. But summer will soon be over and winter with its storms will arrive. The brooks will freeze over, and you will not be able to find a single drop of water to quench your thirst. The fields will be covered with snow, and you will not find anything to eat. But I will give you a warm place where you can freely fly around, and you can have as much water and bread as you want. Come down, and I will show you that you are better off with me than with your freedom."

Thus spoke the master of the garden, but the little bird laughed louder than before, making the man even angrier.

"You are still laughing?" asked the man.

"Of course," replied the bird. "See, you gave me my freedom on account of the teachings that I gave you, and now you are so foolish that you do not take the teachings to heart. I earned my freedom fairly, but you forgot my teachings after only a few minutes. You should not grieve over things that have already happened, but still you are grieving that you gave me my freedom. You should not wish for things that you cannot obtain, and yet you want me, for whom freedom is my whole life, to voluntarily enter a prison. You should not believe that which is impossible, and yet you believe that I am carrying about inside my body a diamond as large as a hen's egg, although I myself am only half the size of a hen's egg."

And with that the bird flew away.

Happy Storytelling!!!

The Farmer and his Sons....an Earth Day tale

2010-04-12T11:13:00.005-07:00

Earth day is April 22nd...this story is a tale about the rewards of caring for the land.

There was once an old farmer who was dying.
The farmer had worked hard in his vineyard all his life and before he died he wanted to teach his three, somewhat lazy, sons how to be good farmers.
So he called them to him and said, "My boys, before I die I want you to know that there is a great treasure buried in the vineyard.
Promise me that you will look for it when I'm dead".

The sons promised and as soon as their father had died, they began looking for the treasure.
They worked very hard in the hot sun and all the time as they were working they wondered what their father had left for them.
In their minds they pictured boxes of gold coins, diamond necklaces and other such things.

Soon they had dug up every inch of the vineyard, but they found not a penny.
As you can imagine, the sons were very upset.
They felt that all their hard work had been for nothing.
But then the grapes started to appear on the vines and their grapes were the biggest and best in the neighborhood, and they sold them for a lot of money.

Now they understood what their father had meant by the great treasure, and they lived happily ever after.

International Children's Book Day.......also Hans Christian Andersen's Birthday

2010-04-02T10:57:00.003-07:00

Yep, today is International Children's Book Day which ,since 1967, is held on or around Hans Christian Andersen's birthday. April 2nd.
International Children's Book Day (ICBD) is a day to inspire a love of reading and to call attention to children's books.

The Red Shoes
by Hans Christian Andersen(1845)

ONCE upon a time there was little girl, pretty and dainty. But in summer time she was obliged to go barefooted because she was poor, and in winter she had to wear large wooden shoes, so that her little instep grew quite red.

In the middle of the village lived an old shoemaker’s wife; she sat down and made, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes out of some old pieces of red cloth. They were clumsy, but she meant well, for they were intended for the little girl, whose name was Karen.

Karen received the shoes and wore them for the first time on the day of her mother’s funeral. They were certainly not suitable for mourning; but she had no others, and so she put her bare feet into them and walked behind the humble coffin.

Just then a large old carriage came by, and in it sat an old lady; she looked at the little girl, and taking pity on her, said to the clergyman, “Look here, if you will give me the little girl, I will take care of her.”

Karen believed that this was all on account of the red shoes, but the old lady thought them hideous, and so they were burnt. Karen herself was dressed very neatly and cleanly; she was taught to read and to sew, and people said that she was pretty. But the mirror told her, “You are more than pretty—you are beautiful.”

One day the Queen was travelling through that part of the country, and had her little daughter, who was a princess, with her. All the people, amongst them Karen too, streamed towards the castle, where the little princess, in fine white clothes, stood before the window and allowed herself to be stared at. She wore neither a train nor a golden crown, but beautiful red morocco shoes; they were indeed much finer than those which the shoemaker’s wife had sewn for little Karen. There is really nothing in the world that can be compared to red shoes!

Karen was now old enough to be confirmed; she received some new clothes, and she was also to have some new shoes. The rich shoemaker in the town took the measure of her little foot in his own room, in which there stood great glass cases full of pretty shoes and white slippers. It all looked very lovely, but the old lady could not see very well, and therefore did not get much pleasure out of it. Amongst the shoes stood a pair of red ones, like those which the princess had worn. How beautiful they were! and the shoemaker said that they had been made for a count’s daughter, but that they had not fitted her.

“I suppose they are of shiny leather?” asked the old lady. “They shine so.”

“Yes, they do shine,” said Karen. They fitted her, and were bought. But the old lady knew nothing of their being red, for she would never have allowed Karen to be confirmed in red shoes, as she was now to be.

Everybody looked at her feet, and the whole of the way from the church door to the choir it seemed to her as if even the ancient figures on the monuments, in their stiff collars and long black robes, had their eyes fixed on her red shoes. It was only of these that she thought when the clergyman laid his hand upon her head and spoke of the holy baptism, of the covenant with God, and told her that she was now to be a grown-up Christian. The organ pealed forth solemnly, and the sweet children’s voices mingled with that of their old leader; but Karen thought only of her red shoes. In the afternoon the old lady heard from everybody that Karen had worn red shoes. She said that it was a shocking thing to do, that it was very improper, and that Karen was always to go to church in future in black shoes, even if they were old.

On the following Sunday there was Communion. Karen looked first at the black shoes, then at the red ones—looked at the red ones again, and put them on.

The sun was shining gloriously, so Karen and the old lady went along the footpath through the corn, where it was rather dusty.

At the church door stood an old crippled soldier leaning on a crutch; he had a wonderfully long beard, more red than white, and he bowed down to the ground and asked the old lady whether he might wipe her shoes. Then Karen put out her little foot too. “Dear me, what pretty dancing-shoes!” said the soldier. “Sit fast, when you dance,” said he, addressing the shoes, and slapping the soles with his hand.

The old lady gave the soldier some money and then went with Karen into the church.

And all the people inside looked at Karen’s red shoes, and all the figures gazed at them; when Karen knelt before the altar and put the golden goblet to her mouth, she thought only of the red shoes. It seemed to her as though they were swimming about in the goblet, and she forgot to sing the psalm, forgot to say the “Lord’s Prayer.”

Now every one came out of church, and the old lady stepped into her carriage. But just as Karen was lifting up her foot to get in too, the old soldier said: “Dear me, what pretty dancing shoes!” and Karen could not help it, she was obliged to dance a few steps; and when she had once begun, her legs continued to dance. It seemed as if the shoes had got power over them. She danced round the church corner, for she could not stop; the coachman had to run after her and seize her. He lifted her into the carriage, but her feet continued to dance, so that she kicked the good old lady violently. At last they took off her shoes, and her legs were at rest.

At home the shoes were put into the cupboard, but Karen could not help looking at them.

Now the old lady fell ill, and it was said that she would not rise from her bed again. She had to be nursed and waited upon, and this was no one’s duty more than Karen’s. But there was a grand ball in the town, and Karen was invited. She looked at the red shoes, saying to herself that there was no sin in doing that; she put the red shoes on, thinking there was no harm in that either; and then she went to the ball; and commenced to dance.

But when she wanted to go to the right, the shoes danced to the left, and when she wanted to dance up the room, the shoes danced down the room, down the stairs through the street, and out through the gates of the town. She danced, and was obliged to dance, far out into the dark wood. Suddenly something shone up among the trees, and she believed it was the moon, for it was a face. But it was the old soldier with the red beard; he sat there nodding his head and said: “Dear me, what pretty dancing shoes!”

She was frightened, and wanted to throw the red shoes away; but they stuck fast. She tore off her stockings, but the shoes had grown fast to her feet. She danced and was obliged to go on dancing over field and meadow, in rain and sunshine, by night and by day—but by night it was most horrible.

She danced out into the open churchyard; but the dead there did not dance. They had something better to do than that. She wanted to sit down on the pauper’s grave where the bitter fern grows; but for her there was neither peace nor rest. And as she danced past the open church door she saw an angel there in long white robes, with wings reaching from his shoulders down to the earth; his face was stern and grave, and in his hand he held a broad shining sword.

“Dance you shall,” said he, “dance in your red shoes till you are pale and cold, till your skin shrivels up and you are a skeleton! Dance you shall, from door to door, and where proud and wicked children live you shall knock, so that they may hear you and fear you! Dance you shall, dance—!”

“Mercy!” cried Karen. But she did not hear what the angel answered, for the shoes carried her through the gate into the fields, along highways and byways, and unceasingly she had to dance.

One morning she danced past a door that she knew well; they were singing a psalm inside, and a coffin was being carried out covered with flowers. Then she knew that she was forsaken by every one and damned by the angel of God.

She danced, and was obliged to go on dancing through the dark night. The shoes bore her away over thorns and stumps till she was all torn and bleeding; she danced away over the heath to a lonely little house. Here, she knew, lived the executioner; and she tapped with her finger at the window and said:

“Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must dance.”

And the executioner said: “I don’t suppose you know who I am. I strike off the heads of the wicked, and I notice that my axe is tingling to do so.”

“Don’t cut off my head!” said Karen, “for then I could not repent of my sin. But cut off my feet with the red shoes.”

And then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner struck off her feet with the red shoes; but the shoes danced away with the little feet across the field into the deep forest.

And he carved her a pair of wooden feet and some crutches, and taught her a psalm which is always sung by sinners; she kissed the hand that guided the axe, and went away over the heath.

“Now, I have suffered enough for the red shoes,” she said; “I will go to church, so that people can see me.” And she went quickly up to the church-door; but when she came there, the red shoes were dancing before her, and she was frightened, and turned back.

During the whole week she was sad and wept many bitter tears, but when Sunday came again she said: “Now I have suffered and striven enough. I believe I am quite as good as many of those who sit in church and give themselves airs.” And so she went boldly on; but she had not got farther than the churchyard gate when she saw the red shoes dancing along before her. Then she became terrified, and turned back and repented right heartily of her sin.

She went to the parsonage, and begged that she might be taken into service there. She would be industrious, she said, and do everything that she could; she did not mind about the wages as long as she had a roof over her, and was with good people. The pastor’s wife had pity on her, and took her into service. And she was industrious and thoughtful. She sat quiet and listened when the pastor read aloud from the Bible in the evening. All the children liked her very much, but when they spoke about dress and grandeur and beauty she would shake her head.

On the following Sunday they all went to church, and she was asked whether she wished to go too; but, with tears in her eyes, she looked sadly at her crutches. And then the others went to hear God’s Word, but she went alone into her little room; this was only large enough to hold the bed and a chair. Here she sat down with her hymn-book, and as she was reading it with a pious mind, the wind carried the notes of the organ over to her from the church, and in tears she lifted up her face and said: “O God! help me!”

Then the sun shone so brightly, and right before her stood an angel of God in white robes; it was the same one whom she had seen that night at the church-door. He no longer carried the sharp sword, but a beautiful green branch, full of roses; with this he touched the ceiling, which rose up very high, and where he had touched it there shone a golden star. He touched the walls, which opened wide apart, and she saw the organ which was pealing forth; she saw the pictures of the old pastors and their wives, and the congregation sitting in the polished chairs and singing from their hymn-books. The church itself had come to the poor girl in her narrow room, or the room had gone to the church. She sat in the pew with the rest of the pastor’s household, and when they had finished the hymn and looked up, they nodded and said, “It was right of you to come, Karen.”

“It was mercy,” said she.

The organ played and the children’s voices in the choir sounded soft and lovely. The bright warm sunshine streamed through the window into the pew where Karen sat, and her heart became so filled with it, so filled with peace and joy, that it broke. Her soul flew on the sunbeams to Heaven, and no one was there who asked after the Red Shoes.

World Folk Tales and Fables Week.....a list of links and a tale

2010-03-20T12:42:00.008-07:00

"Once upon a time....."

Those familiar words are the beginning of many exciting folk tales, fables and fairy tales. March 22nd through 28th is World Folk Tales and Fables Week.

It's a week to encourage children and adults to explore the lessons to be learned from folk tales, fables, myths and legends from around the world. These stories vary from culture to culture but they often have similar morals, themes and characters. Sharing folk tales , fables and fairy tales with children is also a great way to enhance their literary skill.

Below is a list of folk tale related links:

SurLaLune Fairytales.com

LongLongTimeAgo.com stories for children

PBS Super Why

Aesops Fables Online

Books to Read during World Folk Tales and Fables Week

Picture Books based on Folk and Fairy Tales

African American Folktales for Black History Month

Now for our story.....

The Girl Who Could Spin Gold from Clay and Long Straw.....a tale from Sweden

There was once an old woman who had an only daughter. The lass was good and amiable, and also extremely beautiful, but at the same time so indolent that she would hardly turn her hand to any work. This was a cause of great grief to the mother, who tried all sorts of ways to cure her daughter of so lamentable a failing. But there was no help. The old woman then thought no better plan could be devised than to set her daughter to spin on the roof of their cottage, in order that all the world might be witness of her sloth. But her plan brought her no nearer the mark. The girl continued as useless as before.

One day, as the king's son was going to the chase, he rode by the cottage where the old woman dwelt with her daughter. On seeing the fair spinner on the roof, he stopped and inquired why she sat spinning in such an unusual place.

The old woman answered, "Aye, she sits there to let all the world see how clever she is. She is so clever that she can spin gold out of clay and long straw."

At these words the prince was struck with wonder, for it never occurred to him that the old woman was ironically alluding to her daughter's sloth. He therefore said, "If what you say is true, that the young maiden can spin gold from clay and long straw, she shall no longer sit there, but shall accompany me to my palace and be my consort."

The daughter thereupon descended from the roof and accompanied the prince to the royal residence, where, seated in her maiden-bower, she received a pail full of clay and a bundle of straw, by way of trial, whether she were so skillful as her mother had said.

The poor girl now found herself in a very uncomfortable state, knowing but too well that she could not spin flax, much less gold. So, sitting in her chamber, with her head resting on her hand, she wept bitterly. While she was thus sitting, the door was opened, and in walked a very little old man, who was both ugly and deformed. The old man greeted her in a friendly tone, and asked why she sat so lonely and afflicted.

"I may well be sorrowful," answered the girl. "The king's son has commanded me to spin gold from clay and long straw, and if it be not done before tomorrow's dawn, my life is at stake."

The old man then said, "Fair maiden, weep not, I will help you. Here is a pair of gloves. When you have then on you will be able to spin gold. Tomorrow night I will return, when, if you have not found out my name, you shall accompany me home and be my wife."

In her despair she agreed to the old man's condition, who then went his way. The maiden now sat and span, and by dawn she had already spun up all the clay and straw, which had become the finest gold it was possible to see.

Great was the joy throughout the whole palace, that the king's son had got a bride who was so skillful and, at the same time, so fair. But the young maiden did nothing but weep, and the more the time advanced the more she wept, for she thought of the frightful dwarf who was to come and fetch her. When evening drew nigh, the king's son returned from the chase, and went to converse with his bride. Observing that she appeared sorrowful, he strove to divert her in all sorts of ways, and said he would tell her of a curious adventure, provided only she would be cheerful. The girl entreated him to let her hear it.

Then said the prince, "While rambling about in the forest today I witness an odd sort of thing. I saw a very, very little old man dancing round a juniper bush and singing a singular song."

"What did he sing?" asked the maiden inquisitively, for she felt sure that the prince had met with the dwarf.

"He sang these words, answered the prince,

I dag skall jag maltet mala,
I morgon skall mitt bröllopp vara.
Och jungfrun sitter i buren och gråter;
Hon ver inte havad jag heter.
Jag heter Titteli Ture.
Jag heter Titteli Ture.

Today I the malt shall grind,
Tomorrow my wedding shall be.
And the maiden sits in her bower and weeps;
She knows not what I am called.
I am called Titteli Ture.
I am called Titteli Ture.

Was not the maiden now glad? She begged the prince to tell her over and over again what the dwarf had sung. He then repeated the wonderful song, until she had imprinted the old man's name firmly in her memory. She then conversed lovingly with her betrothed, and the prince could not sufficiently praise his young bride's beauty and understanding. But he wondered why she was so overjoyed, being like everyone else, ignorant of the cause of her past sorrow.

When it was night, and the maiden was sitting alone in her chamber, the door was opened, and the hideous dwarf again entered. On beholding him the girl sprang up, and said, "Titteli Ture! Titteli Ture! Here are your gloves."

When the dwarf heard his name pronounced, he was furiously angry, and hastened away through the air, taking with him the whole roof of the house.

The fair maiden now laughed to herself and was joyful beyond measure. She then lay down to sleep, and slept till the sun shone. The following day her marriage with the young prince was solemnized, and nothing more was ever heard of Titteli Ture.

* Story Source:Benjamin Thorpe, Yule-Tide Stories: A Collection of Scandinavian and North German Popular Tales and Traditions, from the Swedish, Danish, and German (London: Henry G. Bohn, 1853)

World Storytelling Day

2010-03-10T02:59:00.000-07:00

Ha! I finally managed to blog about something before the actual date. Yea me!!

World Storytelling Day is Saturday March 20th.
The theme for 2010 is Light and Shadow.

Grandmother Spider Brings the Sun to Earth

One Day, One Night
By Master Storyteller Joe Hayes From his book "Here Comes the Storyteller"

Here is a story that goes way back to the beginning of time. They say that way back then things were very different. There was not a steady rhythm of days and nights like there is now. Instead it might be dark for 10 years in a row. And then light for one day. And then it could be dark again for eight long years. And then light for one day.

Some of the animals were happy with the way things were. They were the animals that liked the darkness. But many animals were unhappy. They preferred the light.

Rabbit was an unhappy animal because she would feel a lot safer if she could see her enemies creeping up on her.

Squirrel didn't like it, either. She liked to run down one tree branch to the very end and then take a long, flying leap and catch another branch and run up it. But in the dark Squirrel would miss the second branch and fall and hit her head almost every time.

Nor did the birds like it. Well, one bird, Owl, was happy, but not the rest of them, not even Hawk and Eagle. They could hunt better when it was light.

So one day when Sun happened to be shining, Eagle flew clear up to Sun and told him that many animals were unhappy. There wasn't enough daylight.

Sun said he wanted all animals to be happy. He told Eagle to call the animals together and let them talk about it. However, they wanted things to be-however much darkness and daylight they wanted-Sun said he would make things that way.

Eagle called the animals together, and each animal stood up and said how he thought things should be arranged. The biggest and strongest animals were the first ones to talk. So Bear stood up first and growled, "Ten years of darkness, then one day of light."

But other animals had different ideas. Skunk said, "I think there should be four years of darkness, and then-n-n . two days of light."

Badger grumbled, "Ah, why can't it just be dark all the time?"

But Rabbit jumped up and said, "No! It should be light all the time."

Then Bluebird chirped, "My children need daylight! My children need daylight!"

There were many different ideas. The last animal to speak was Frog, with an idea no one else had thought of. Frog stood and croaked, "One day, one night. One day, one night."

Right away most of the animals saw that this was the best idea of all. The day and the night should just follow one another like black and white beads along a string.

But Bear wasn't going to let the weak little frog tell him how things should be. Bear kept growling, "Ten years of darkness, one day of light."

Before long all the animals were in two groups: the few that agreed with Bear and all the rest, who agreed with Frog. And they could not settle their difference.

Eagle had to fly back to Sun and tell him that now all the animals were in two groups, unable to come to an agreement. Sun said there was one way to resolve the argument. Each group would choose one animal to speak for it. And the animal who could speak the longest without stopping, saying how he wanted things to be, would be granted his way.

Eagle told the animals, and right away Bear said he would talk for his group. He laughed and laughed when he heard that Frog would talk for the other group. Bear was sure he could roar so loud that Sun would not even hear Frog.

When the time for the contest came, Bear went and stood on one bank of the river. Frog hopped onto the other. Bear didn't even wait for the signal to begin. Right away he began growling, "Ten years of darkness, one day of light!"

Only after the signal came did Frog begin: "One day, one night. One day, one night."

At first Sun could hardly hear Frog, because Bear was so loud. But Bear was not used to talking all the time, and his throat started getting sore. His voice grew hoarse, but he kept repeating, "Ten years of darkness, one day of light!"

Bear slurped some water from the river. His voice then came back strong. "Ten years of darkness, one day of light!" But it did not hold up long. He started losing it again. And soon Bear's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out: "__________________!"

On the other side of the river, however, Frog was just getting warmed up: "One day, one night. One day, one night."

Finally Bear had to admit he had been beaten. He walked away grumbling.

But Frog never did stop talking! Even now, if you go outside on a warm evening, you can hear Frog out there by the water. If you could speak his language, you would hear him say: "One day, one night. One day, one night."

And that's how things have been ever since: a day followed by a night, and then another day and another night.

Yet when the weather gets cool in the fall of the year, Frog hides under a rock and goes to sleep. Then Bear starts grumbling again, "Ten years of darkness, one day of light!" And then Sun can hear Bear. A little bit frightened of Bear, Sun starts traveling a little more quickly across the sky each day. So the days get shorter and shorter all through the fall.

But when the really cold weather sets in, Bear finds a cave in the mountains and goes to sleep. When he does, Sun feels braver, and starts traveling more slowly across the sky each day. Then the days get longer and longer.

All of this happened a long time ago. But ever since that time, among all the animals, and especially among the people, it isn't the one who is biggest and strongest who gets things his way. The one who gets things his way is the one who has a good idea and then says what he wants over and over and over. That's how to get things your way in the end!

Copyright © Joe Hayes

World Read Aloud Day

2010-03-03T02:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's another day dedicated to reading, books and kids....well, you can read to adults too.

World Read Aloud Day

March 3, 2010 has been established as LitWorld's first World Read Aloud Day to celebrate and encourage the invaluable practice of reading aloud and to bring attention to the importance of literacy across all countries and for all of humanity.

info found at www.litworld.org

Here's a short tale about Nasreddin Hodja. Read it to someone today.

A beggar was given a piece of bread, but nothing to put on it. Hoping to get something to go with his bread, he went to a nearby inn and asked for a handout. The innkeeper turned him away with nothing, but the beggar sneaked into the kitchen where he saw a large pot of soup cooking over the fire. He held his piece of bread over the steaming pot, hoping to thus capture a bit of flavor from the good-smelling vapor.

Suddenly the innkeeper seized him by the arm and accused him of stealing soup.

"I took no soup," said the beggar. "I was only smelling the vapor."

"Then you must pay for the smell," answered the innkeeper.

The poor beggar had no money, so the angry innkeeper dragged him before the qadi(judge).

Now Nasreddin Hodja was at that time serving as qadi, and he heard the innkeeper's complaint and the beggar's explanation.

"So you demand payment for the smell of your soup?" summarized the Hodja after the hearing.

"Yes!" insisted the innkeeper.

"Then I myself will pay you," said the Hodja, "and I will pay for the smell of your soup with the sound of money."

Thus saying, the Hodja drew two coins from his pocket, rang them together loudly, put them back into his pocket, and sent the beggar and the innkeeper each on his own way.

National Tell a Fairy Tale Day!!

2010-02-26T16:28:00.003-07:00

Oh my Goodness!! I almost missed it. Today is National Tell a Fairy Tale Day!
I have no idea who started it or how long its been around but HEY! who cares??

It's a great idea! Let's all get out there and share fairy tale with someone....anyone!
Almost everyone can think of at least one fairy tale that they like or know.

What about Sleeping Beauty, Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Goldilocks, Jack and the Beanstalk, Princess and the Pea, Rapunzel, Rumplestilskin, Ugly Duckling, the Shoemaker and the Elves....I could go on and on.

In honor of the day I am posting a fairy tale that isn't very well known but it's lots of fun.

The Wood Fairy...a tale from Central Europe

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Betushka. She lived with her mother, a poor widow who had only a tumbledown cottage and two goats. But in spite of this poverty, Betushka was always merry.

From spring to autumn, Betushka drove the goats each day to pasture in a birch wood. Every morning her mother put a slice of bread and an empty spindle into her bag. The spindle would hold the flaxen thread she would spin while she watched the goats. She was too poor to own a distaff on which to wind the flax, so she wound it around her head, to carry it thus to the wood.

"Work hard, Betushka," her mother always said, "and fill the spindle before you return home."

Off skipped Betushka, singing along the way. She danced behind the goats into the wood of birch trees and sat down under a tree. With her left hand she pulled fibers from the flax around her head and with her right hand twirled her spindle so that it hummed over the ground. All the time she sang merrily and the goats nibbled the green grass among the trees.

When the sun showed that it was midday, Betushka stopped her spinning. She gave each of the goats a morsel of bread and picked a few strawberries to eat with what remained. After this, she sprang up and danced. The sun shone even more warmly and the birds sang yet more sweetly.

After her dance, Betushka began again to spin busily. At evening when she drove the goats home she was able to hand her mother a spindle full of flaxen thread.

One fine spring day, when Betushka was ready as usual to dance, suddenly there appeared before her a most beautiful maiden. Her white dress floated about her as thin as gossamer, her golden hair flowed to her waist, and a wreath of forest blossoms crowned her head. Betushka was struck silent.

The wood fairy smiled at her and in a sweet voice asked, "Betushka, do you like to dance?"

At this, Betushka lost her fear. "Oh! I could dance all the day long!"

"Come then, let us dance together. I will teach you." She took Betushka and began to dance with her.

Round and round they circled, while sweet music sounded over their heads. The maiden had called upon the birds sitting in the birch trees to accompany them.

Nightingales, larks, goldfinches, thrushes, and a clever mockingbird sang such sweet melodies that Betushka's heart filled with delight. She quite forgot her goats and her spinning. On and on she danced, with feet never weary, until evening when the last rosy rays of sunset were disappearing. The music ceased and the maiden vanished as suddenly as she had come.

Betushka looked around. There was her spindle -- only half filled with thread. Sadly she put it into her bag and drove the goats from the wood. She did not sing while going down the road this time, but reproached herself for forgetting her duty. She resolved that she would not do this again. When she reached home she was so quiet that her mother asked if she were ill.

"No, Mother, I am not ill." But she did not tell her mother about the lovely maiden. She hid the half-filled spindle, promising herself to work twice as hard tomorrow to make up for today.

Early the next morning Betushka again drove the goats to pasture, singing merrily as usual. She entered the wood and began her spinning, intending to do twice her usual amount.

At noon Betushka picked a few strawberries, but she did not dance. To her goats she said, "Today, I dare not dance. Why don't you dance, my little goats?"

"Come and dance with me," called a voice. It was the beautiful maiden.

But this time Betushka was afraid, and she was also ashamed. She asked the maiden to leave her alone. "Before sunset, I must finish my spinning," she said.

The maiden answered, "If you will dance with me, someone will help you finish your spinning." With the birds singing beautifully as before, Betushka could not resist. She and the maiden began to dance, and again they danced till evening.

Now when Betushka looked at her nearly empty spindle, she burst into tears. But the maiden unwound the flax from Betushka's head, twined it around a slender birch tree, seized the spindle, and began to spin. The spindle hummed over the ground and grew thick with thread. By the time the sun had dropped from sight, all the flax was spun. As the maiden handed the full spindle to Betushka, she said, "Wind it and grumble not. Remember, wind it and grumble not." Then, suddenly, she disappeared.

Betushka, happy now, drove the goats home, singing as she went, and gave her mother the full spindle. Betushka's mother, however, was not pleased with what Betushka had failed to do the day before and asked her about it. Betushka told her that she had danced, but she kept the maiden a secret.

The next day Betushka went still earlier to the birch wood. The goats grazed while she sang and spun, until at noon the beautiful maiden appeared and again seized Betushka by the waist to dance. While the birds sang for them, the two danced on and on, Betushka quite forgetting her spindle and the goats.

When the sun was setting, Betushka looked around. There was the half-filled spindle! But the maiden grasped Betushka's bag, became invisible for a moment, then handed back the bag stuffed with something light. She ordered her not to look into it before reaching home, and with these words she disappeared.

Betushka started home, not daring to look into the bag. But halfway there she was unable to resist peeking, for the bag was so light she feared a trick. She looked into the bag, and began to weep. It was full of dry birch leaves! Angrily she tossed some of these out of the bag, but suddenly she stopped -- she knew they would make good litter for the goats to sleep on.

Now she was almost afraid to go home. There her mother was awaiting her. "What kind of spindle did you bring me yesterday?" she asked. "I wound and wound, but the spindle remained full. 'Some evil spirit has spun you,' I grumbled, and at that instant the thread vanished from the spindle. Tell me what this means."

Betushka then told her mother about the maiden and their dancing. "That was a wood fairy," exclaimed her mother, alarmed. "The wood fairies dance at midday and at midnight. If you had been a little boy, you might not have escaped alive. But to little girls, the wood fairies often give rich presents." Next, she added. "To think that you did not tell me. If I had not grumbled I might have had a room full of thread."

Betushka then thought of her bag and wondered if there might not, after all, be something under those leaves. She lifted out the spindle and the unspun flax. "Look, Mother!" Her mother looked and clapped her hands. Under the spindle the birch leaves had turned to gold!

Betushka told her mother how the fairy had directed her not to look into the bag until she got home, but that she had not obeyed and had thrown out some of the leaves. "Tis fortunate you did not empty out the whole bagful," said her mother.

The next morning Betushka and her mother went into the wood, to look carefully over the ground where Betushka had thrown out the dry leaves. Only fresh birch leaves lay there, but the gold that Betushka did bring home was enough for a farm with a garden and some cows. She wore beautiful dresses and no longer had to graze the goats. Nothing, however, gave her such delight as she had had dancing with the wood fairy. Often she ran to the birch wood, hoping to see the beautiful maiden, but never again did the wood fairy appear.

************************************

Anyhoo, if, like me, you missed most of Fairy Tale day, don't despair!
Tomorrow is Saturday...a great day to go out and spread the joy of Fairy Tales!!

Happy Telling!

The Wolf and Little Daughter....an African-American folktale

2010-02-02T11:20:00.004-07:00

One day Little Daughter was pickin' some flowers. There was a fence around the house she lived in with her papa. Papa didn’t want Little Daughter to run in the forest, where there were wolves. He told Little Daughter never to go out the gate alone.
“Oh, I won’t, Papa,” said Little Daughter.

One morning her papa had to go away for somethin'. And Little Daughter thought she’d go huntin' for flowers. She just thought it wouldn’t harm anything to peep through the gate. And that’s what she did. She saw a wild yellow flower so near the gate that she stepped outside and picked it.

Little Daughter was outside the fence now. She saw another pretty flower. She skipped over and got it, held it in her hand. It smelled sweet. She saw another and she got it, too. Put it with the others. She was makin' a pretty bunch to put in her vase for the table. and so Little daughter got farther and farther away from the cabin. She picked flowers, and the whole time she sang a sweet song.

All at once Little Daughter heard a noise. She looked up and saw a great big wolf. The wolf said to her, in a low, gruff voice, said, “Sing that sweetest, goodest song again.”

So the little child sang it, sang:
“Tray-bla, tray-bla, cum qua, kimo.”

And, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, Little Daughter tiptoed toward the gate. She’s goin back home.
But she hears big and heavy, PIT-APAT, PIT-A-PAT, comin behind her. And there’s the wolf.
He says, “Did you move?” in a gruff voice.

Little Daughter says, “Oh, no, dear wolf, what occasion have I to move?”
“Well, sing that sweetest, goodest song again,” says the wolf.

“Tray-bla, tray-bla, cum qua, kimo.”

A the wolf is gone again.

The child goes back some more, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, softly on tippy-toes toward the gate.
But she soon hears very loud, PIT-A-PAT, PIT-A-PAT, comin behind her.

And there is the great big wolf, and he says to her, says, “I think you moved.”

“Oh, no, dear wolf,” Little Daughter tells him, “what occasion have I to move?”
So he says, “Sing that sweetest, goodest song again.”

Little Daughter begins:
“Tray-bla, tray-bla, tray-bla, cum qua, kimo.”

The wolf is gone.

But, PIT-A-PAT, PIT-A-PAT, PIT-A-PAT, comin on behind her.
There’s the wolf. He says to her, says, “You moved.”

She says, “Oh, no, dear wolf, what occasion do I have to move?”

“Sing that sweetest, goodest song again,” says the big, bad wolf.

She sang:
“Tray-bla, tray-bla,tray-bla, cum qua, kimo.”

The wolf is gone again.

And she, Little Daughter, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-patin away home. She is so close to the gate now.

And this time she hears PIT-A-PAT, PIT-A-PAT, PIT-A-PAT comin on quick behind her.

Little Daughter slips inside the gate. She shuts it – CRACK! PLICK! – right in that big, bad wolf’s face.

She sweetest, goodest, safe!

(this version of Little Daughter was written by Virginia Hamilton )

check out my list of African-American Folktales for Black History Month...more than just Anansi

The Twelve Months.....a Russian folktale

2010-01-04T03:52:00.002-07:00

The Twelve Months
THERE was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her own daughter.

Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help.

Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another.

But Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming.

One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.

"Listen," cried she to Marouckla, "you must go up the mountain and find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh and sweet-scented-do you hear?"

"But, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan.

"You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?" said Helen. "Not another word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest I will kill you."

The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die.

Suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed toward it till she reached the top of the mountain. Upon the highest peak burned a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone on which sat twelve strange beings. Of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger.

There they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the Twelve Months of the Year. The great January was placed higher than the others. His hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned, and drawing near, she said: --

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the winter cold."

The great January raised his head and answered:
"What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for violets," replied the maiden.

"This is not the season for violets. Dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said January.

"I know well, but my sister Helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain. If I return without them they will kill me. I pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found."

Here the great January arose and went over to the youngest of the Months, and, placing his wand in his hand, said: --

"Brother March, do thou take the highest place."

March obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire. Immediately the flames rose toward the sky, the snow began to melt and the trees and shrubs to bud. The grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said March.

Joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house.

"Where did you find them?" asked Helen.

"Under the trees on the mountain-side," said Marouckla.

Helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother. She did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she desired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries.

"Run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain. They must be very sweet and ripe."

"But whoever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed Marouckla.

"Hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me. If I don't have my strawberries I will kill you," said Helen.

Then the stepmother pushed Marouckla into the yard and bolted the door. The unhappy girl made her way toward the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the Twelve Months. The great January occupied the highest place.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head and asked: "Why comest thou here? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for strawberries," said she.

"We are in the midst of winter," replied January, "strawberries do not grow in the snow."

"I know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries. If I do not they will kill me. Pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them."

The great January arose, crossed over to the Month opposite him, and putting the wand in his hand, said: "Brother June, do thou take the highest place."

June obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leaped toward the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries, and instantly they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said June.

Joyfully she thanked the Months, and having filled her apron ran happily home.

Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance.

"Wherever did you find them?" asked Helen crossly.

"Right up among the mountains. Those from under the beech trees are not bad," answered Marouckla.

Helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself. Not one did she offer to her stepsister. Being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh, red apples.

"Run, Marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh, red apples from the mountain."

"Apples in winter, sister? Why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit!"

"Idle thing, go this minute," said Helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you."

As before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow, and on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months. Motionless they sat there, and on the highest stone was the great January.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head. "Why comest thou here? What does thou seek?" asked he.

"I am come to look for red apples," replied Marouckla.

"But this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great January.

"I know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will kill me."

Thereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly Months, to whom he handed the wand saying: --

"Brother September, do thou take the highest place."

September moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the fire. There was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were visible. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then another.

"That is enough," said September; "hurry home."

Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit.

"Where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister.

"There are more on the mountain-top," answered Marouckla.

"Then, why did you not bring more?" said Helen angrily. "You must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl."

"No, dear sister, I have not even tasted them," said Marouckla. "I shook the tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would not allow me to shake it again, but told me to return home."

"Listen, mother," said Helen. "Give me my cloak. I will fetch some more apples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. The shepherds may cry `Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken down all the apples."

In spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse, put on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered everything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After a while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction, reached the mountain-top.

There was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve Months. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word.

"What hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?" said the great January severely.

"I am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going toward the forest.

The great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head. Instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. Amid the fury of the storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to warm her benumbed limbs.

The mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours passed slowly, but Helen did not return.

"Can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in search of her daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things. For long she wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries.

Day after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither stepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the mountain.

The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla.
In course of time, an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful.

story & picture found at Russian-Crafts.com

The Yule Faeries....A Winter Solstice Story

2009-11-29T04:08:00.001-07:00

A group of little Faeries huddled in their home deep under the roots of a giant oak tree. They were safe and snug in their tiny underground cave lined with dandelion fluff, bird feathers, and dried moss.

Outside, the wind blew cold and the snow fell softly down to cover the ground. "I saw the Sun King today," the faerie named Rose said as she pulled her mossy cloak tighter about her. "He looked so old and tired as he walked off through the forest. What is wrong with him?

"The great oak said he's dying" answered Daffodil.

"Dying? Oh, what will we do now?", Little Meadow Grass started to cry, "If the Sun King dies, our little plant friends will not grow. The Birds will not come and sing again. Everything will be winter for ever!" Lilac, Dandelion and Elder Blossom tried to comfort their friend, but they were all very sad. As they huddled together, there was a knock on the tiny door.

"Open up, Faeries," called out a loud voice. "Why are you hiding instead of joining us in our Solstice celebration?" Rose opened the door and the little gnome Brown Knobby pushed inside, shaking the glistening snowflakes off his brown coat and hat.

"We are too sad to celebrate," Daffodil said wiping her eyes, "The Sun King is dying, haven't you heard?"

"He is dead you silly Faeries." Brown Knobby's round dark eyes sparkled with laughter. "Now hurry, or we'll be late for the celebration!"

"How can you be happy and laughing?!" Elder Blossom stamped her little foot and frowned at the gnome. "If the Sun King IS dead, it will be winter always. We will never see the Sun again!"

"Silly little child-Faeries." Brown Knobby grabbed Dandelion by the hand and pulled her to her feet. "There is a secret to the Winter Solstice. Don't you want to know what it is?"

The Faeries looked at him in surprise. "Secret?" they all said. "What secret? We are only new little Faeries, you silly gnome. We've never been to a Solstice celebration before."

"Come and see. Come and see. Get your capes and come with me." Brown Knobby danced and jigged around the room. "Hurry, Hurry, don't be slow! To the Sacred Oak Grove through the snow!" He danced out of the door and disappeared.

"What did that gnome mean?" Rose asked as she gathered up her cloak of dried rose petals held together with cobwebs and lined with goose down.

"I don't know, but the Lady lives in the Sacred Grove." Meadow Grass pulled on her hat.

"Perhaps if we go to see the Goddess, She can explain what Brown Knobby was talking about".

The Faeries left their snug little home and trudged off through the snow toward the sacred oak grove. The forest was dark with only the light of the Moon shining down through the thick fir branches and bare limbs of maple and hawthorn. It was very difficult for them to get through the snow because they were very, very small. As they waded through the wet snow and shivered in the cold wind, they met a fox.

"Where are you going, Faeries?" the fox asked.

"To the sacred grove," they answered, they were cold and shivering.

"Climb on my back and I will take you there swiftly."

The fox knelt down so the Faeries could climb up. Then he raced off through the dark.

"Listen!" Lilac said as they neared the Grove of Sacred trees. "Someone is singing happy songs. A LOT of someones."

The beautiful music carried over the cold, still, moonlit air. It was the most beautiful music the Faeries had ever heard. The fox carried the Faeries right to the edge of the stone altar in the center of the grove, then knelt down.

"Look!" said Elder Blossom as they slid to the snow covered ground. "There is the Maiden and the Mother and the OLD Wise Crone, and many other Little People."

"They are all smiling and happy," said Lilac as she looked around at all the creatures.

"All the animals are here too," whispered Dandelion. "Why are they all looking at the Mother?"

The Faeries moved closer to the three Ladies seated on the altar stone. The Mother held a bundle close in Her arms, smiling down at it. The Maiden reached down and took the Faeries gently in her Hands. She held them close to the Mother so they could see what She held.

"A Baby!" the Faeries cried. " A new little Baby! Look how he glows!"

"He is the newborn Sun King," said the Maiden smiling.

"But Brown Knobby and the old oak tree said the Sun King was dead," the Faeries answered her. "How can this little baby be the Sun King?"

"That is the great secret of the Winter Solstice." The Old Wise One touched the baby's cheek with her wrinkled hand. "Every year the Sun King must come to the sacred grove during the darkest days of winter where he dies. I take his spirit to the Mother who gives him new life again. This is the way for all creatures, not just the Sun King."

" You mean everything lives and dies and lives again? the Faeries looked down in wonder at the baby Sun King, nestled in the arms of the Mother.

" Yes, Little Ones," answered the Old Wise Crone. "There is never an end to life. This is the great mystical secret of the Winter Solstice."

The Faeries laughed because they were so happy.

"I think the little Sun King should have gifts," said Rose. "I will show him where the wild roses bloom in the early summer."

"And, I will teach him to call the birds and listen to the songs of the wind," exclaimed Dandelion.

"When he is older and stronger, " said the Mother, "then the flowers will bloom at his touch, the birds will return to sing their songs, and the air will be warm from his breath, and winter will be gone for a time. Then the Sun King will run and play with you in the forest."

The little Faeries sang to the Baby Sun King, songs of the coming spring, the sweet smelling flowers, the bumbling bees, and all the secrets of the forest. And all the creatures within the sacred grove sang with them. Then the fox took them back to their snug home under the roots of the giant oak tree where they dreamed wonderful dreams, waiting for the warmth of spring and the fun they would have with the little Sun King.

(author unknown)

The Lambikin...a tale from India

2009-11-01T14:29:00.005-07:00

Once upon a time there was a wee wee lambikin, who frolicked about on his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly.

Now one day he set off to visit his granny, and was jumping with joy to think of all the good things he should get from her, when who should he meet but a jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said, "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat YOU!"

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk and said,

To granny's house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.

The jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

By and by he met a vulture, and the vulture, looking hungrily at the tender morsel before him, said, "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat YOU!"

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said,

To granny's house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.

The vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

And by and by he met a tiger, and then a wolf, and a dog, and an eagle, and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said, "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat YOU!"

But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk,

To granny's house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.

At last he reached his granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry, "Granny, dear, I've promised to get very fat. So, as people ought to keep their promises, please put me into the corn bin at once."

So his granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn bin, and there the greedy little lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, and ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his granny said he was fat enough for anything, and must go home.

But cunning little Lambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat him on the way back, he was so plump and tender.

"I'll tell you what you must do," said Lambikin. "You must make a little drumikin, and then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a drum myself."

So his granny made a nice little drumikin, with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in the middle, and trundled away gaily. Soon he met with the eagle, who called out,

Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?

And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest, replied,

Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum-too!

"How very annoying!" sighed the eagle, thinking regretfully of the tender morsel he had let slip.

Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing,

Tum-pa, tum-too;
Tum-pa, tum-too!

Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question,

Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?

And to each of them the little sly-boots replied,

Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum-too!
Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!

Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let slip.

At last the jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp as a needle, and he too called out,

Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?

And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gaily,

Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin! Tum-pa --

But he never got any further, for the jackal recognized his voice at once, and cried, "Hullo! You've turned yourself inside out, have you? Just you come out of that!"

Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.

(Bet you thought this was going to end differently....didn't you??)

This version of the story was published by Joseph Jacobs in Indian Fairy Tales (London: David Nutt, 1892)

It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown!!

2009-10-29T10:25:00.002-07:00

This is a Halloween classic and I felt I haaaaaad to put it up in case any of you missed it this year.

This video is part 1 of 3 but when it finishes you'll find the other parts at the bottom of the videos screen.

The Rabbit who Saw the World....an English folktale

2009-10-28T18:10:00.003-07:00

Rufty Tufty was a rabbit who wanted to see the world.

"What is the world like?" he said to everyone he met. "It's a big flat place," said his mother. "No, it's square," said his father, and nobody could agree.

One evening Rufty Tufty saw Wise Old Owl sitting in an oak tree. "Mr Owl," he squeaked. "Can you tell me what the world is like?" The old owl looked wise, then he said, "The world is round."

All night Rufty Tufty dreamed of a round world. As soon as he woke up he said "Good-bye" to his family, and set out to see for himself.

He hadn't gone far - hoppity hop, hoppity hop - when he came to the edge of the woods and saw a fence. Slipping through a gap, Rufty Tufty found himself inside a vegetable garden.

As Rufty Tufty looked round the garden, and nibbled at a cabbage, he saw a large round pumpkin.

"The world!" he squeaked to himself, and joyfully hopped over the cabbages to the place where the pumpkin stood.

Rufty Tufty stretched out a paw and patted the pumpkin. "The world is hard," he thought.

Then, giving a jump, he scrambled to the top of the pumpkin and looked all around, then slithered down the other side.

Just then Mr Brown came home and saw Rufty Tufty near his pumpkin.
He shouted and frightened Rufty Tufty so much that the little rabbit scampered back to the Window Woods.

"Mr Owl is right," he told his mother. "The world is round and I have been all over it!"

found at 4to40.com

Prince Wicked and the Grateful Animals....a Jakata tale

2009-10-05T14:35:00.002-07:00

ONCE UPON A TIME a king had a son named Prince Wicked. He was fierce and cruel, and he spoke to nobody without abuse, or blows. Like grit in the eye, was Prince Wicked to every one, both in the palace and out of it.

His people said to one another, "If he acts this way while he is a prince, how will he act when he is king?"

One day when the prince was swimming in the river, suddenly a great storm came on, and it grew very dark.

In the darkness the servants who were with the prince swam from him, saying to themselves, "Let us leave him alone in the river, and he may drown."

When they reached the shore, some of the servants who had not gone into the river said, "Where is Prince Wicked?"

"Isn't he here?" they asked. "Perhaps he came out of the river in the darkness and went home." Then the servants all went back to the palace.

The king asked where his son was, and again the servants said: "Isn't he here, O King? A great storm came on soon after we went into the water. It grew very dark. When we came out of the water the prince was not with us."

At once the king had the gates thrown open. He and all his men searched up and down the banks of the river for the missing prince. But no trace of him could be found.

In the darkness the prince had been swept down the river. He was crying for fear he would drown when he came across a log. He climbed upon the log, and floated farther down the river.

When the great storm arose, the water rushed into the homes of a Rat and a Snake who lived on the river bank. The Rat and the Snake swam out into the river and found the same log the prince had found. The Snake climbed upon one end of the log, and the Rat climbed upon the other.

On the river's bank a cottonwood-tree grew, and a young Parrot lived in its branches. The storm pulled up this tree, and it fell into the river. The heavy rain beat down the Parrot when it tried to fly, and it could not go far. Looking down it saw the log and flew down to rest. Now there were four on the log floating down stream together.

Just around the bend in the river a certain poor man had built himself a hut. As he walked to and fro late at night listening to the storm, he heard the loud cries of the prince. The poor man said to himself: "I must get that man out of the water. I must save his life." So he shouted: "I will save you! I will save you!" as he swam out in the river.

Soon he reached the log, and pushing it by one end, he soon pushed it into the bank. The prince jumped up and down, he was so glad to be safe and sound on dry land.

Then the poor man saw the Snake, the Rat, and the Parrot, and carried them to his hut. He built a fire, putting the animals near it so they could get dry. He took care of them first, because they were the weaker, and afterwards he looked after the comfort of the prince.

Then the poor man brought food and set it before them, looking after the animals first and the prince afterwards. This made the young prince angry, and he said to himself: "This poor man does not treat me like a prince. He takes care of the animals before taking care of me." Then the prince began to hate the poor man.

A few days later, when the prince, and the Snake, the Rat, and the Parrot were rested, and the storm was all over, the Snake said good-by to the poor man with these words: "Father, you have been very kind to me, I know where there is some buried gold. If ever you want gold, you have only to come to my home and call, 'Snake!' and I will show you the buried gold. It shall all be yours."

Next the Rat said good-by to the poor man. "If ever you want money," said the Rat, "come to my home, and call out, 'Rat!' and I will show you where a great deal of money is buried near my home. It shall all be yours."

Then the Parrot came, saying: "Father, silver and gold have I none, but if you ever want choice rice, come to where I live and call, 'Parrot!' and I will call all my family and friends together, and we will gather the choicest rice in the fields for you."

Last came the prince. In his heart he hated the poor man who had saved his life. But he pretended to be as thankful as the animals had been, saying, "Come to me when I am king, and I will give you great riches." So saying, he went away.

Not long after this the prince's father died, and Prince Wicked was made king. He was then very rich.

By and by the poor man said to himself: "Each of the four whose lives I saved made a promise to me. I will see if they will keep their promises."

First of all he went to the Snake, and standing, near his hole, the poor man called out, "Snake!"

At once the Snake darted forth, and with every mark of respect he said: "Father, in this place there is much gold. Dig it up and take it all."

"Very well," said the poor man. "When I need it, I will not forget."

After visiting for a while, the poor man said good-by to the Snake, and went to where the Rat lived, calling out, "Rat!"

The Rat came at once, and did as the Snake had done, showing the poor man where the money was buried.

"When I need it, I will come for it," said the poor man.

Going next to the Parrot, he called out, "Parrot!" and the bird flew down from the tree-top as soon as he heard the call.

"O Father," said the Parrot, "shall I call together all my family and friends to gather choice rice for you?"

The poor man, seeing that the Parrot was willing and ready to keep his promise, said: "I do not need rice now. If ever I do, I will not forget your offer."

Last of all, the poor man went into the city where the king lived. The king, seated on his great white elephant, was riding through the city. The king saw the poor man, and said to himself: "That poor man has come to ask me for the great riches I promised to give him. I must have his head cut off before he can tell the people how he saved my life when I was the prince."

So the king called his servants to him and said: "You see that poor man over there? Seize him and bind him, beat him at every corner of the street as you march him out of the city, and then chop off his head."

The servants had to obey their king. So they seized and bound the poor man. They beat him at every corner of the street. The poor man did not cry out, but he said, over and over again, "It is better to save poor, weak animals than to save a prince."

At last some wise men among the crowds along the street asked the poor man what prince he had saved. Then the poor man told the whole story, ending with the words, "By saving your king, I brought all this pain upon myself."

The wise men and all the rest of the crowd cried out: "This poor man saved the life of our king, and now the king has ordered him to be killed. How can we be sure that he will not have any, or all, of us killed? Let us kill him." And in their anger they rushed from every side upon the king as he rode on his elephant, and with arrows and stones they killed him then and there.

Then they made the poor man king, and set him to rule over them.

The poor man ruled his people well. One day he decided once more to try the Snake, the Rat, and the Parrot. So, followed by many servants, the king went to where the Snake lived.

At the call of "Snake!" out came the Snake from his hole saying, "Here, O King, is your treasure; take it."

"I will," said the king. "And I want you to come with me."

Then the king had his servants dig up the gold.

Going to where the Rat lived, the king called, "Rat!" Out came the Rat, and bowing low to the king, the Rat said, "Take all the money buried here and have your servants carry it away."

"I will," said the king, and he asked the Rat to go with him and the Snake.

Then the king went to where the Parrot lived, and called, "Parrot!" The Parrot flew down to the king's feet and said, "O King, shall I and my family and my friends gather choice rice for you?"

"Not now, not until rice is needed," said the king. "Will you come with us?" The Parrot was glad to join them.

So with the gold, and the money, and with the Snake, the Rat, and the Parrot as well, the king went back to the city.

The king had the gold and the money hidden away in the palace. He had a tube of gold made for the Snake to live in. He had a glass box made for the Rat's home, and a cage of gold for the Parrot. Each had the food he liked best of all to eat every day, and so these four lived happily all their lives.

from More Jakata Tales by Ellen C. Babbitt published in 1922

"You knew what I was_" ....The Lady and the Snake

2009-08-26T19:04:00.004-07:00

Another story in written and musical form :)

A young girl was trudging along a mountain path, trying to reach her grandmother's house. It was bitter cold, and the wind cut like a knife. When she was within sight of her destination, she heard a rustle at her feet.

Looking down, she saw a snake. Before she could move, the snake spoke to her. He said, "I am about to die. It is too cold for me up here, and I am freezing. There is no food in these mountains, and I am starving. Please put me under your coat and take me with you."

"No," replied the girl. "I know your kind. You are a rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you will bite me, and your bite is poisonous."

"No, no," said the snake. "If you help me, you will be my best friend. I will treat you differently."

The little girl sat down on a rock for a moment to rest and think things over. She looked at the beautiful markings on the snake and had to admit that it was the most beautiful snake she had ever seen.

Suddenly, she said, "I believe you. I will save you. All living things deserve to be treated with kindness."

The little girl reached over, put the snake gently under her coat and proceeded toward her grandmother's house.

Within a moment, she felt a sharp pain in her side. The snake had bitten her.

"How could you do this to me?" she cried. "You promised that you would not bite me, and I trusted you!"

"You knew what I was when you picked me up," hissed the snake as he slithered away.

(course in my version the man/woman/child then uses her last bits of strength to beat/stomp the crap out of the snake before she dies...saying if I gotta go so do you......apparently I'm not all that nice)

Here's the musical version of this story.
Love this song but not too crazy about the graphics!

On her way to work one morning
Down the path along side the lake
A tender hearted woman saw a poor half frozen snake
His pretty colored skin had been all frosted with the dew
"Oh well," she cried, "I'll take you in and I'll take care of you"

"Take me in tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake.

Now she wrapped him all cozy in a coverture of silk
And then laid him by the fireside with some honey and some milk
Now she hurried home from work that night as soon as she arrived
She found that pretty snake she'd taken to had been revived.

"Take me in, oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake

She clutched him to her bosom, "You're so beautiful," she cried
"But if I hadn't brought you in, by now you might have died"
Now she stroked his pretty skin again and then kissed and held him tight
But instead of saying thanks, the snake gave her a vicious bite!

"Take me in, oh tender woman
Take me in for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake.

"Now I saved you," cried the woman
And you've bit me, even why?
And you know your bite is poisonous and now I'm going to die"
"Ah shut up, silly woman," said that reptile with a grin
“Now you knew darn well I was a snake before you brought me in "

Please, take me in, oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake, sighed the snake

“Take me in tender woman
“Come on in you pretty snake…
Come on in, yeah, come on in you pretty snake…

Lambert, Hendricks and Ross....Cottontail ... and a Twisted bonus!

2009-08-20T13:03:00.005-07:00

I just love they way some folks retell stories!!
This version of Peter Cottontail by Lambert, Hendricks and Ross is a favorite of mine.
Hope you like it!

Don't ya just love these gadgety things??? hmmm...is it just me?? :(

Lyrics

Okay...this is my fave song by them...well mostly sung by Annie Ross.
You really need to listen to it when all three of them are singing it.

The Journey

2009-07-22T08:30:00.000-07:00

A wealthy merchant comes to the town where a Rabbi, famous for his wisdom, lives and he asks to be allowed to meet him.

A meeting is arranged and the merchant is ushered into the Rabbi's house.

When he looks around he is flabergasted.

"Where is your fine furniture? Where is your silver and fine dishes?"

"I might ask you the same thing," the Rabbi says. "Where are your fine things? Where is your silver and dishes and furniture?"

"But, but but..I am am travelling. I cannot be weighed down with those things. I am on a journey! "

"There, I knew you would understand! ...For I too am on a journey."

The Story of the Fairy Tale or The Disappearance of Truth

2009-06-11T21:09:00.006-07:00

ONCE upon a time, ever so many years ago, Truth suddenly vanished from out of the world.

When people perceived this, they were greatly alarmed and at once sent five wise men in search of Truth.
They set out, one in this direction and one in that, all plentifully equipped with traveling expenses and good intentions.
They sought for ten long years.
Then they returned, each separately.
While still at a distance, they waved their hats and shouted that they had found Truth.

The first stepped forward and declared that Truth was Science.
He was not able to finish his report, however; for before he had done, another thrust him aside and shouted that that was a lie, that Truth was Theology and that he had found it.
Now while these two were at loggerheads--for the Science man replied to the attack vigorously--there came a third and said, in beautiful words, that Love was Truth, without a doubt.
Then came the fourth and stated, quite curtly, that he had Truth in his pocket, that it was Gold, and that all the rest was childish nonsense.
At last came the fifth.
He could not stand on his legs, gave a gurgling laugh, and said that Truth was Wine. He had found Truth in Wine, after looking everywhere.

Then the five wise men began to fight, and they pummeled one another so lustily that it was horrible to see.

Science had its head broken, and Love was so greatly ill-treated that it had to change its clothes before it could show itself again in respectable society.

Gold was so thoroughly stripped of every covering that people felt awkward about knowing it; and the bottle broke and Wine flowed away into the mud.

But Theology came off worst of all: everybody had a blow at it and it received such a blasting that it became the laughingstock of all beholders.

And people took sides, some with this one and some with that, and they shouted so loud that they could neither see nor hear for the din.

But far away, at the extreme end of the earth, sat a few and mourned because they thought that Truth had gone to pieces and would never be made whole again.

Now as they sat there, a little girl came running up and said that she had found Truth. If they would just come with her--it was not very far--Truth was sitting in the midst of the world, in a green meadow.

Then there came a pause in the fighting, for the little girl looked so very sweet.
First one went with her; then another; and ever more... At last, they were all in the meadow and there discovered a figure the like of which they had never seen before.

There was no distinguishing whether it was a man or a woman, an adult or a child.

Its forehead was pure as that of one who knows no sin; its eyes deep and serious as those of one who has read into the heart of the whole world.

Its mouth opened with the brightest smile and then quivered with a sadness greater than any could describe.

Its hand was soft as a mother's and strong as the hand of a king; its foot trod the earth firmly, yet crushed not a flower.

And then the figure had large, soft wings, like the birds that fly at night.

Now at they stood there and stared, the figure drew itself erect and cried, in a voice that sounded like bells ringing:

"I am Truth!"

"It's a Fairy Tale!" said Science.

"It's a Fairy Tale!" cried Theology and Love and Gold and Wine.

Then the five wise men and their followers went away, and they continued to fight until the world was shaken to its center.

But a few old and weary men and a few young men with ardent and eager souls and many women and thousands of children with great wide eyes: these remained in the meadow where the Fairy Tale was.

Ewald, Carl. "The Story of a Fairy Tale." Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, translator. 1905.

The story can also be found in Spells of Enchantment: The Wondrous Fairy Tales of Western Culture, edited by Jack Zipes.

I first heard this story told by Jack Zipes when he was a guest on
The Art of Storytelling with Children
He said that he felt this story was very relevant today and I believe that I have to agree with him.

the picture at the top of the blog is In Truth There Is Love by Elvira Amrhein

Walnuts and Pumpkins: a story & a recipe

2009-05-17T11:15:00.004-07:00

Nasreddin Hodja was lying in the shade of an ancient walnut tree.
His body was at rest, but, befitting his calling as an imam, his mind did not relax. Looking up into the mighty tree he considered the greatness and wisdom of Allah.

"Allah is great and Allah is good," said the Hodja, "but was it indeed wise that such a great tree as this be created to bear only tiny walnuts as fruit? Behold the stout stem and strong limbs. They could easily carry the pumpkins that grow from spindly vines in yonder field, vines that cannot begin to bear the weight of their own fruit. Should not walnuts grow on weakly vines and pumpkins on sturdy trees?"

So thinking, the Hodja dosed off, only to be awakened by a walnut that fell from the tree, striking him on his forehead.

"Allah be praised!" he exclaimed, seeing what had happened. "If the world had been created according to my meager wisdom, it would have been a pumpkin that fell from the tree and hit me on the head. It would have killed me for sure! Allah is great! Allah is good! Allah is wise!"

Never again did Nasreddin Hodja question the wisdom of Allah.

I love Nasreddin tales!
Sometimes called Nasreddin or Mulla Nasreddin or Nasreddin Hodja and a host of other name and different spellings but by any name Nasreddin tales are always entertaining and subltly educational.
For more information click here to go to Wikipedia's Nasreddin page

Walnut and Pumpkin Drop Cookies

Ingredients:
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 egg
1 cup solid pack pumpkin puree
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup fresh or dried cranberries
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon orange zest
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Grease cookie sheets or you can line them with parchment paper.

In a large mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.

Beat in vanilla, egg and pumpkin.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon; stir into mixture until well blended.

If using fresh cranberries cut them in half otherwise stir cranberries into mixture along with the orange zest and walnuts.

Drop by teaspoonfuls onto cookie sheets.

Bake for 10 to 12 minutes.

The Cake is Mine!....a Korean folk tale

2009-05-05T05:32:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time an old man lived with his wife.
One day, after he had held a service in memory of his ancestors, one of their neighbours sent them a present of some food.
He sent them cooked rice and vegetables, but only one cake.
They were unwilling to divide it, and so they agreed that the first to speak should forfeit the cake.

So they left it on the table, and sat gazing at it in silence.

Just then a thief broke into the house, and when he saw the old man and his wife sitting there in silence he concluded that they must be blind and deaf.
So he calmly helped himself to everything he could find, and then began a violent assault on the old woman.

But her husband just sat and watched in silence.

At last his wife could stand it no longer.
She shouted at him, "You heartless old man! You sit there quietly while this fellow beats me!"

Then the old man said, "The cake is mine," and coolly popped it into his mouth.

A Musical Moment....

2009-05-01T08:52:00.003-07:00

Merrie Melodies cartoon featuring "Tales from Vienna Woods" (Geschichten aus dem Wienerwald, Op. 325) with Bugs and Elmer followed by the "Blue Danube" (An der schönen blauen Donau, Op. 314) by Johann Strauss.

Enjoy!!

Storyteller - David Holt: The stories and songs of Appalachia

2009-04-29T19:35:00.000-07:00

(another fabulous TEDTalk :P )
David Holt: The stories and song of Appalachia

Folk musician and storyteller David Holt plays the banjo and shares photographs and old wisdom from the Appalachian Mountains. He also demonstrates some unusual instruments like the mouth bow -- and a surprising electric drum kit he calls "thunderwear."
David Holt is also a four-time Grammy Award-winning folk musician.

Iconic Poetry and "If I Controlled the Internet"

2009-04-25T20:39:00.005-07:00

TedTalks strike again!!
Winding up National Poetry Month, I have a sample of Storyteller and poet Rives, the star of the special "Ironic Iconic America" and a regular on HBO's Def Poetry Jam.
Here he is at the 2008 TEDTalks giving a 3-minute story of mixed emoticons and at the 2006 TEDTalks reciting If I Controlled the Internet...fabulous!!!

Still I Rise.....National Poetry Month continues

2009-04-17T19:42:00.003-07:00

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Road Not Taken.....National Poetry Month continues

2009-04-08T21:52:00.000-07:00

The Road Not Taken
written by Robert Frost(1915)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I have always Looooooved this poem!!!
But I found out awhile back that apparently it doesn't mean what it appears to mean....Figures!
That would be waaaay to easy.
The word is that...

This poem is usually interpreted as an assertion of individualism, but critic Lawrence Thompson has argued that it is a slightly mocking satire on a perennially hesitant walking partner of Frost's who always wondered what would have happened if he had chosen their path differently.

Hmmm...I like my interpretaion better!

April is National Poetry Month!

2009-04-04T07:38:00.001-07:00

Yea!!
I know that all of you are just soooo excited about this announcement.
And you should be....here is your excuse to quote poetry to folks you know and even those you don't...know.
Yep, you have my permission (I know you've been waiting for it) to randomly quote poetry to any and everyone.
Full poems, scraps of poems, children's poems....whatever works for you!
Alrighty then! Now that I've made that announcement, here are a few of my fave poems and throughout the month I will be throwing up a few more....Enjoy!!

"I'm Nobody"

I ’M nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Emily Dickenson

"Daffodils"

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

"A Dream Deferred"

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes

"Phenomenal Woman" by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.

I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.

I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.

I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.

I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

The Spindle, The Shuttle, and The Needle.....in honor of National Craft Month

2009-03-29T04:52:00.005-07:00

The Spindle, The Shuttle, and The Needle

There was once a girl whose father and mother died while she was still a little child. All alone, in a small house at the end of the village, dwelt her godmother, who supported herself by spinning, weaving, and sewing.

The old woman took the forlorn child to live with her, kept her to her work, and educated her in all that is good.

When the girl was fifteen years old, the old woman became ill, called the child to her bedside, and said, "Dear daughter, I feel my end drawing near. I leave you the little house, which will protect you from wind and weather, and my spindle, shuttle, and needle, with which you can earn your bread."
Then she laid her hands on the girl's head, blessed her, and said, "Only preserve the love of God in your heart, and all will go well with you."
Thereupon she closed her eyes, and when she was laid in the earth, the maiden followed the coffin, weeping bitterly, and paid her the last mark of respect.

And now the maiden lived quite alone in the little house, and was industrious, and spun, wove, and sewed, and the blessing of the good old woman was on all that she did.

It seemed as if the flax in the room increased of its own accord, and whenever she wove a piece of cloth or carpet, or had made a shirt, she at once found a buyer who paid her amply for it, so that she was in want of nothing, and even had something to share with others.

About this time, the son of the king was traveling about the country looking for a bride. He was not to choose a poor one, and did not want to have a rich one.

So he said, "She shall be my wife who is the poorest, and at the same time the richest."
When he came to the village where the maiden dwelt, he inquired, as he did wherever he went, who was the richest and also the poorest girl in the place. They first named the richest. The poorest, they said, was the girl who lived in the small house quite at the end of the village.

The rich girl was sitting in all her splendor before the door of her house, and when the prince approached her, she got up, went to meet him, and made him a low curtsy. He looked at her, said nothing, and rode on.

When he came to the house of the poor girl, she was not standing at the door, but sitting in her little room. He stopped his horse, and saw through the window, on which the bright sun was shining, the girl sitting at her spinning-wheel, busily spinning. She looked up, and when she saw that the prince was looking in, she blushed all over her face, let her eyes fall, and went on spinning.
I do not know whether, just at that moment, the thread was quite even, but she went on spinning until the king's son had ridden away again. Then she went to the window, opened it, and said, "It is so warm in this room", and she looked after him as long as she could distinguish the white feathers in his hat.

Then she sat down to work again in her room and went on with her spinning, and a saying which the old woman had often repeated when she was sitting at her work, came into her mind, and she sang these words to herself "Spindle, my spindle, haste, haste thee away, and here to my house bring the wooer, I pray."

And what do you think happened?
The spindle sprang out of her hand in an instant, and out of the door, and when, in her astonishment, she got up and looked after it, she saw that it was dancing out merrily into the open country, and drawing a shining gold thread after it. Before long, it had entirely vanished from her sight.
As she had now no spindle, the girl took the weaver's shuttle in her hand, sat down to her loom, and began to weave. The spindle, however, danced continually onwards, and just as the thread came to an end, reached the prince.
"What do I see," he cried, "the spindle certainly wants to show me the way, turned his horse about, and rode back with the golden thread."

The girl however, was sitting at her work singing, "Shuttle, my shuttle, weave well this day, and guide the wooer to me, I pray."

Immediately the shuttle sprang out of her hand and out by the door. Before the threshold, however, it began to weave a carpet which was more beautiful than the eyes of man had ever yet beheld. Lilies and roses blossomed on both sides of it, and on a golden ground in the center green branches ascended, under which bounded hares and rabbits, stags and deer stretched their heads in between them, brightly-colored birds were sitting in the branches above, they lacked nothing but the gift of song. The shuttle leapt hither and thither, and everything seemed to grow of its own accord.

As the shuttle had run away, the girl sat down to sew. She held the needle in her hand and sang, "Needle, my needle, sharp-pointed and fine, prepare for the wooer this house of mine."
Then the needle leapt out of her fingers, and flew everywhere about the room as quick as lightning. It was just as if invisible spirits were working, it covered tables and benches with green cloth in an instant, and the chairs with velvet, and hung the windows with silken curtains. Hardly had the needle put in the last stitch than the maiden saw through the window the white feathers of the prince, whom the spindle had brought thither by the golden thread.

He alighted, stepped over the carpet into the house, and when he entered the room, there stood the maiden in her poor garments, but she shone out from within them like a rose surrounded by leaves.
"You are the poorest and also the richest", said he to her. "Come with me, you shall be my bride."
She did not speak, but she gave him her hand. Then he gave her a kiss, led her forth, lifted her on to his horse, and took her to the royal castle, where the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicings.

The spindle, shuttle, and needle were preserved in the treasure-chamber, and held in great honor.

written by the Brothers Grimm

Pick (Plant?) a Flower Day....the story of Echo and Narcissus

2009-03-12T20:17:00.005-07:00

Today, March 12th is "Pick a Flower Day"...hmmm or maybe that's "Plant a Flower Day" (whichever!).
Anyway, in honor of this day, I thought I would find a story about a flower.
There's nothin' like a good greek myth.
By the way the official flower for March is the Daffodil.

Daffodil lore:
While daffodils can be taken to say, "My fond hopes have been dashed by your behavior," they mostly say, "You're the only one. The sun is always shining when I'm with you."
As a spring flower that blossoms when the sun begins to shine, it expresses the joy one has when in the presence of one’s partner, signifying love, regard, and respect.

A woman giving daffodils to a man has noticed that he is chivalrous.

ECHO & NARCISSUS
BY THOMAS BULLFINCH

Echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. She was a favourite of Diana, and attended her in the chase. But Echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the last word. One day Juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. Echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. When Juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon Echo in these words: "You shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of- reply. You shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first."

This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. She loved him and followed his footsteps. O how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. She waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. One day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "Who's here?" Echo replied, "Here." Narcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out, "Come." Echo answered, "Come." As no one came, Narcissus called again, "Why do you shun me?" Echo asked the same question. "Let us join one another," said the youth. The maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. He started back, exclaiming, "Hands off! I would rather die than you should have me!" "Have me," said she; but it was all in vain. He left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. From that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. Her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. Her bones were changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her but her voice. With that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word.

Narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. He shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor Echo. One day a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. The avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer.

There was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of the forests; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. Hither came one day the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. He stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-spirit living in the fountain. He stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of Bacchus or Apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. He fell in love with himself. He brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. It fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. He could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest. while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image.

He talked with the supposed spirit: "Why, beautiful being, do you shun me? Surely my face is not one to repel you. The nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. When I stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." His tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. As he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "Stay, I entreat you! Let me at least gaze upon you, if I may not touch you." With this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees be lost his colour, his vigour, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph Echo.

She kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "Alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. He pined away and died; and when his shade passed the Stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. The nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts Echo smote hers also. They prepared a funeral pile and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of Narcissus.

What's Opera...Doc?

2009-02-28T21:12:00.005-07:00

I decided that we all needed a little culture (okay maybe just me) so, of course, I thought of opera and Bugs Bunny!
And...YES it is related to storytelling.
Opera tells a story...nyaaah, nyaah!!

And now a little ballet (yeah, yeah...it's tells a story too...I told you everything is storytelling!)

The Pancake...a Norwegian Folk Tale

2009-02-19T20:37:00.004-07:00

(in honor of Pancake Day, February 24th)

Once upon a time there was a good housewife, who had seven hungry children. One day she was busy frying pancakes for them, and this time she had used new milk in the making of them. One was lying in the pan, frizzling away -- ah! so beautiful and thick -- it was a pleasure to look at it. The children were standing round the fire, and the husband sat in the corner and looked on.

"Oh, give me a bit of pancake, mother, I am so hungry!" said one child.

"Ah, do! dear mother," said the second.

"Ah, do! dear, good mother," said the third.

"Ah, do! dear, good, kind mother," said the fourth.

"Ah, do! dear, good, kind, nice mother," said the fifth.

"Ah, do! dear, good, kind, nice, sweet mother," said the sixth.

"Ah, do! dear, good, kind, nice, sweet, darling mother," said the seventh. And thus they were all begging for pancakes, the one more prettily than the other, because they were so hungry, and such good little children.

"Yes, children dear, wait a bit until it turns itself," she answered -- she ought to have said "until I turn it" -- "and then you shall all have pancakes, beautiful pancakes, made of new milk -- only look how thick and happy it lies there."

When the pancake heard this, it got frightened, and all of a sudden, it turned itself and wanted to get out of the pan, but it fell down in it again on the other side, and when it had been fried a little on that side too, it felt a little stronger in the back, jumped out on the floor, and rolled away, like a wheel, right through the door and down the road.

"Halloo!" cried the good wife, and away she ran after it, with the frying pan in one hand and the ladle in the other, as fast as she could, and the children behind her, while the husband came limping after, last of all.

"Halloo, won't you stop? Catch it, stop it. Halloo there!" they all screamed, the one louder than the other, trying to catch it on the run, but the pancake rolled and rolled, and before long, it was so far ahead, that they could not see it, for the pancake was much smarter on its legs than any of them.

When it had rolled a time, it met a man.

"Good day, pancake!" said the man.

"Well met, Manny Panny," said the pancake.

"Dear pancake," said the man, "don't roll so fast, but wait a bit and let me eat you."

"When I have run away from Goody Poody and the husband and seven squalling children, I must run away from you too, Manny Panny," said the pancake, and rolled on and on, until it met a hen.

"Good day, pancake," said the hen.

"Good day, Henny Penny," said the pancake.

"My dear pancake, don't roll so fast, but wait a bit and let me eat you," said the hen.

"When I have run away from Goody Poody and the husband and seven squalling children, and from Manny Panny, I must run away from you too, Henny Penny," said the pancake, and rolled on like a wheel down the road. Then it met a cock.

"Good day, pancake," said the cock.

"Good day, Cocky Locky," said the pancake.

"My dear pancake, don't roll so fast, but wait a bit and let me eat you," said the cock.

"When I have run away from Goody Poody and the husband and seven squalling children, from Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, I must run away from you too, Cocky Locky," said the pancake, and rolled and rolled on as fast as it could. When it had rolled a long time, it met a duck.

"Good day, pancake," said the duck.

"Good day, Ducky Lucky," said the pancake.

"My dear pancake, don't roll so fast, but wait a bit and let me eat you," said the duck.

"When I have run away from Goody Poody and the husband and seven squalling children, from Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky, I must run away from you too, Ducky Lucky," said the pancake, and with that it fell to rolling and rolling as fast as ever it could. When it had rolled a long, long time, it met a goose.

Good day, pancake," said the goose.

"Good day, Goosey Poosey," said the pancake.

"My dear pancake, don't roll so fast, but wait a bit and let me eat you," said the goose.

"When I have run away from Goody Poody and the husband and seven squalling children, from Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky, and Ducky Lucky, I must run away from you too, Goosey Poosey," said the pancake, and away it rolled. So when it had rolled a long, very long time, it met a gander.

Good day, pancake," said the gander.

"Good day, Gander Pander," said the pancake.

"My dear pancake, don't roll so fast, but wait a bit and let me eat you," said the gander.

"When I have run away from Goody Poody and the husband and seven squalling children, from Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky, and Ducky Lucky, and Goosey Poosey, I must run away from you too, Gander Pander," said the pancake, and rolled and rolled as fast as it could. When it had rolled on a long, long time, it met a pig.

Good day, pancake," said the pig.

"Good day, Piggy Wiggy," said the pancake, and began to roll on faster than ever.

Nay, wait a bit," said the pig, "you needn't be in such a hurry-scurry; we two can walk quietly together and keep each other company through the wood, because they say it isn't very safe there."

The pancake thought there might be something in that, and so they walked together through the wood; but when they had gone some distance, they came to a brook.

The pig was so fat it wasn't much trouble for him to swim across, but the pancake couldn't get over.

"Sit on my snout," said the pig, "and I will ferry you over."

The pancake did so.

"Ouf, ouf," grunted the pig, and swallowed the pancake in one gulp, and as the pancake couldn't get any farther -- well, you see we can't go on with this story any farther, either.

(Story found in Round the Yule Log: Norwegian Folk and Fairy Tales published in 1881, written by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen, Pannekaken, translated by H. L. Brækstad)

A Day for Love....

2009-02-14T13:19:00.007-07:00

This has been one of my favorite love poems since I read it in grade school....

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints,
I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!

And, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!!

The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

The Most Wonderful.......a Love Story...sorta

2009-02-05T19:56:00.006-07:00

A Bridegroom for Miss Mole...a tale from Korea

By the river Kingin stands the great stone image, or Miryek, that was cut out of the solid rock ages ago. Its base lies far beneath the ground and around its granite cap, many feet square, the storm clouds gather and play as they roll down the mountain.

Down under the earth, near this mighty colossus, lived a soft-furred mole and his wife. One day a daughter was born to them. It was the most wonderful mole baby that ever was known. The father was so proud of his lovely offspring that he determined to marry her only to the grandest thing in the whole universe. Nothing else would satisfy his pride in the beautiful creature he called his own.

Father Mole sought long and hard to find out where and what, in all nature, was considered the most wonderful. He called in his neighbors and talked over the matter with them. Then he visited the king of the moles and asked the wise ones in his court to decide for him. One and all agreed that the Great Blue Sky was above everything else in glory and greatness.

So up to the Sky the Mole Father went and offered his daughter to be the bride of the Great Blue, telling how, with his vast azure robe, the Sky had the reputation, both on the earth and under it, of being the greatest thing in the universe.

But, much to the Mole Father's surprise, the Sky declined. "No, I am not the greatest. I must refer you to the Sun. He controls me, for he can make it day or night as he pleases. Only when he rises, can I wear my bright colors. When he goes down, darkness covers the world, and men do not see me at all, but the stars instead. Better take your charming daughter to him."

So to the Sun went Mr. Mole and though afraid to look directly into his face, he made his plea. He would have the Sun marry his attractive daughter. But the mighty luminary, that usually seemed so fierce, dazzling men's eyesight and able to burn up the very grass of the field, seemed suddenly very modest. Instead of accepting at once the offer, the Sun said to the father, "Alas! I am not master. The Cloud is greater than I, for he is able to cover me up and make me invisible for days and weeks. I am not as powerful as you think me to be. Let me advise you to offer your daughter to the Cloud."

Surprised at this, the Mole Father looked quite disappointed. Now he was in doubt as to what time he had best propose to the Cloud, -- when it was silvery white and glistening in a summer afternoon, or when it was black and threatening a tempest. However, his ambition to get for his daughter the mightiest possible bridegroom prompted him to wait until the lightnings flashed and the thunder rolled. Then, appearing before the terrible dark Cloud that shot out fire, he told of the charms of his wonderful daughter and offered her as bride.

"And why do you come to me?" asked the Cloud, its face inky black with the wrath of a storm and its eyes red with the fires of lightning.

"Because you are not only the greatest thing in the universe, but you have proved it by your terrible power," replied the Father Mole.

At this the Cloud ceased its rolling, stopped its fire and thunder and almost laughed. "So far from being the greatest thing in the world, I am not even my own master. See already how the Wind is driving me. Soon I shall be invisible, dissolved in air. Let me commend you to the Wind. The Master of the Cloud will make a grand son-in-law."

Thereupon Papa Mole waited until the Wind calmed down, after blowing away the clouds. Then telling of his daughter's accomplishments and loveliness, he made proffer of his only child as bride to the Wind. But the Wind was not half so proud as the Mole Father had expected to find him. Very modest, almost bashful seemed the Wind, as he confessed that before Miryek, the colossal stone image, his power was naught.

"Why, I smite that Great Stone Face and its eyes do not even blink. I roar in his ears, but he minds it not. I try to make him sneeze, but he will not. Smite him as I may, he still stands unmoved and smiling. Alas, no. I am not the grandest thing in the universe, while Miryek stands. Go to him. He alone is worthy to marry your daughter."

By this time the Mole Father was not only footsore and weary, but much discouraged also. Evidently all appreciated his shining daughter; but would he be able, after all, to get her a worthy husband?

He rested himself a while and then proceeded to Miryek, the colossus of granite as large as a lighthouse, its head far up in the air, but with ears ready to hear. The Mole Father squeaked out compliments to the image as being by common confession the greatest thing on earth. He presented his request for a son-in-law and then in detail mentioned the accomplishments of his daughter, sounding her praises at great length. Indeed, he almost ruined his case by talking so long.

With stony patience, Miryek listened to the proud father with a twinkle in his white granite eyes. When his lips moved, he was heard to say, "Fond Parent, what you say is true. I am great. I care not for the sky day or night, for I remain the same in daylight and darkness. I fear not the sun, that cannot melt me, nor the frost that is not able to make me crumble. Cold or hot, in summer or in winter time, I remain unchanged. The clouds come and go, but they cannot move me. Their fire and noise, lightning and thunder, I fear not. Yes, I am great." Then the stone lips closed again.

"You will make, then, a good bridegroom for my daughter? You will marry her, I understand?" asked the proud father as his hopes began to rise, though he was still doubtful.

"I would gladly do so, if I were greatest. But I am not," said Miryek. "Down under my feet is the Mole. He digs with his shovel-like hands and makes burrows day and night. His might I cannot resist. Soon he shall undermine my base and I shall topple down and lie like common stone along the earth. Yes I by universal confession, the Mole is the greatest thing in the universe and to him I yield. Better marry your daughter to him."

So after all his journeying, the lovely daughter's father sought no further. Advised on all sides, and opinion being unanimous, he found out that the Mole was the greatest thing in the universe. His daughter's bridegroom was found at home and of the same family of creatures. He married her to a young and handsome Mole, and great was the joy and rejoicing at the wedding. The pair were well-mated and lived happily ever afterward.

found in The Unmannerly Tiger and Other Korean Tales written by William Elliot Griffis published in 1911

Wonderful Fairytale

2009-01-28T20:30:00.001-07:00

ImageChef.com Poetry Blender

The Most Unusual Food....the story of the rice cake eaten at Tet (Vietnamese New Year)

2009-01-24T21:29:00.006-07:00

TET, the Vietnamese Lunar New Year 2009, begins January 26th.
2009 is the Year of the Water Buffalo.
more information about the Vietnamese New Year can be found here
and here

Emperor Hung-Vuong had many sons.
Some pursued literary careers. Others excelled in martial arts.
The youngest prince named Tiet-Lieu, however, loved neither.
Instead, he and his wife and their children chose the countryside where they farmed the land.

One day, toward the end of the year, the emperor met with all his sons. He told them whoever brought him the most special and unusual food would be made the new emperor. Almost immediately, the princes left for their homes and started looking for the most delicious food to offer the emperor. Some went hunting in the forests and brought home birds and animals which they prepared into the most palatable dishes. Some others sailed out to the open sea, trying to catch fish, lobsters and other much loved sea food. Neither the rough sea nor the violent weather could stop them from looking for the best gifts to please the emperor.

In his search, Tiet-Lieu went back to the countryside. He saw that the rice in his paddy fields was ripe and ready to be harvested, Walking by a glutinous rice field, he picked some golden grains on a long stalk. He brought them close to his nose and he could smell a delicate aroma.

His entire family then set out to harvest the rice, Tiet-Lieu himself ground the glutinous rice grains into fine flour. His wife mixed it with water into a soft paste. His children helped by building a fire and wrapping the cakes with leaves. In no time, they finished, and in front of them lay two kinds of cakes: one was round and the other was square in shape.

The round cake was made with glutinous rice dough and was called "banh day" by Tiet-Lieu. He named the square shaped cake "banh chung" which he made with rice, green beans wrapped in leaves. Everybody was extremely happy with the new kind of cakes.

On the first day of Spring, the princes took the gifts of their labor and love to the emperor. One carried a delicious dish of steamed fish and mushrooms. Another brought with him a roasted peacock and some lobsters. All the food was beautifully cooked.

When it was Tiet-Lieu's turn to present his gifts, he carried the "banh chung" and his wife carried the "banh day" to the emperor. Seeing Tiet-Lieu's simple offerings, other princes sneered at them. But after tasting all the food brought to court by his sons, the emperor decided that the first prize should be awarded to Tiet-Lieu.

The emperor then said that his youngest son's gifts were not only the purest, but also the most meaningful because Tiet-Lieu had used nothing except rice which was the basic foodstuff of the people to make them. The emperor gave up the throne and make Tiet-Lieu the new emperor. All the other princes bowed to show respect and congratulated the new emperor.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rice cake (or Banh Chung) and Banh Day are two types of delicacies which are very popular with the Vietnamese people. Banh Day is served regularly at festivals and ceremonies. It is a rounded, convex cake of glutinous or nep rice, which resembles white dough, soft and sticky. Its cupola-shaped top is said to resemble the shape of the heavenly vault. Banh Chung is served particularly at Vietnamese New Year's festival, which occurs during the first three days of the first month of the lunar calendar. It is a square cake, wrapped in banana leaves and tied with lacings of flexible bamboo slivers. It is a very rich food for the interior contains a filling of bean paste to which may be added small bits of pork meat, both fat and lean. This filling, which is amply seasoned, is pressed between layers of glutinous rice. Its square shape is considered a symbol of the thankfulness of the Vietnamese people for the great abundance of the Earth, which has supplied them with nutritious food throughout the four seasons of the year.

story and info found @ Vietnam-culture.com

I've provided 2 Bahn Chung Recipes and one really wonderful Youtube vid.
Both recipes take HOURS to prepare. The vid shows a woman preparing the leaves and making the rice cakes.

Very interesting vid, showing the use of leaves to make a box for the rice cake.

Banh Chung
(Vietnamese New Year's cake)

Preparation time: 45 to 55 minutes
(plus overnight soaking)
Cooking time: 4 3/4 hours
(plus 1 hour to cool)

Ingredients
2 cups sticky rice
1/4 cup dried mung beans, hulled
6 ounces boneless pork shoulder or roast, cut into 1/4-inch slices
2 tablespoons green onions, chopped
1 1/2 tablespoons fish sauce
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup water
Plastic wrap
Aluminum foil
String

How to make vietnamese New Year's cake (banh chung)
Place rice in one bowl and mung beans in another. Cover each with water and soak overnight. (*)
In a large bowl, combine pork, onions, fish sauce, and pepper. Set aside for 30 minutes.
While pork mixture is marinating, drain rice and beans thoroughly. Add salt to rice and stir well.

In a skillet or wok, heat oil over medium heat. Add pork mixture and stir-fry until meat is cooked through but still tender, about 4 to 6 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.

In a medium saucepan, combine mung beans and about 1 cup water. Simmer over low heat for 20 minutes, or until soft. Remove from heat, drain, and mash beans with a potato masher or fork.

On a countertop, spread out a piece of plastic wrap about 17 inches square. On top of this, place a sheet of aluminum foil of the same size.
Place almost half of the sticky rice in the middle of the foil and shape rice into a square layer.
Top rice with a layer of beans, using half of them.
Place pork slices on top of beans.
Add remaining beans and top off with most of the remaining rice.

Wrap cake by bringing together two edges of foil and plastic wrap. Fold edges over twice and flatten against the side of the packet
.
Tuck remaining rice into the two open ends of the packet, covering up beans and meat. Fold the open ends as if you were wrapping a gift.

Place packet, folded side down, on another large sheet of plastic wrap and wrap tightly.
Tie securely with a long piece of heavy string or twine, lengthwise and crosswise. The packet should be square or rectangular.

Place packet in a large stockpot full of water and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 4 hours, adding water if necessary.
Remove from heat and cool for 1 hour.

To serve, slice wrapped packet into 4 slices. Unwrap, arrange on a plate, and serve.
Serves 4

(*) When traditional banh chung is prepared in Vietnam, the rice absorbs a slight green color from the banana leaves in which the cakes are wrapped. If youlike a little color in your dish, simply add a drop of green food coloring to the rice and water before leaving to soak.
recipe found at ethnicrecipes.us

Banh Chung (Vietnamese Rice Cake)
Recipe #110166 | 7 hours | 1 hour prep |
Vietnamese Lunar New Year(Tet) will never be complete without this cake. It's very heavy, very filling. It takes a LONG time to cook. You read right that it takes 6 hours. And overnight soaking of rice and beans!
SERVES 8 (change servings and units)

Ingredients
200 g glutinous rice, soaked overnight
100-150 g mung beans, soaked overnight
100 g pork, cut into chunks,seasoned with
salt and pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt

Directions
1) You will also need: Strings and 6 phrynium leaves or aluminum foil can be used as substitute.
2) Steam or boil mung bean with half a tsp of salt until soft, may take up to 45 minutes depending on how large your steamer is.
3) Smash bean thoroughly.
4) Place 2 leaves in one direction, slightly overlapping, then 2 perpendicular, also overlapping, and the last layer like the first.
5) If use aluminum foil, place them crossing each other.
6) Place half of the rice on the leaves, topped with half of the mung beans.
7) Lay the pork on top of the beans, and then add the last of the beans followed by last of the rice.
8) Fold the leaves/foils over the cake very tightly into a square, use string to secure the cake.
9) Place in a large pot, cover with water and boil for about 6 hours.
10) Add water every hour if necessary.
11) After 6 hours or so, remove the cake, submerge it into cold water for a few minutes.
12) The cake lasts up to 10 days on a cool dry place.
13) The easiest way to cut up the cake is to open it and use the string to cut it up into 8 portions.
14) Best served with pickled onions.

recipe found at Recipezaar.com

Another good Banh Chung recipe with great pics including the cooked Banh Chung shown here @ SeriousEats.com. This recipe also includes lots of tips on serving and other stuff.

You can also check out VietworldKitchen for info on cooking and eating Banh Chung

The Universe....

2009-01-21T10:30:00.003-07:00

The universe is made of stories, not atoms.
Muriel Rukeyser

The Fish That Were Too Clever....a story from the Panchatantra

2009-01-07T03:37:00.000-07:00

Two fish lived in a pond.
Their names were Satabuddhi (having the understanding of a hundred) and Sahasrabuddhi (having the understanding of a thousand).
The two of them had a frog for a friend, whose name was Ekabuddhi (having the understanding of one).

For a time they would enjoy friendly conversation on the bank, and then they would return to the water. One day when they had gathered for conversation, some fishermen came by just as the sun was setting. They were carrying nets in their hands and many dead fish on their heads.

When the fishermen saw the pond, they said to one another, "There seem to be a lot of fish in this pond, and the water is very low. Let us come back here tomorrow morning!" After saying this, they went home.

These words struck the three friends like a thunderbolt, and they took counsel with one another.

The frog said, "Oh, my dear Satabuddhi and Sahasrabuddhi, what shall we do? Should we flee, or stay here?"

Hearing this, Sahasrabuddhi laughed and said, "Oh, my friend, don't be afraid of words alone! They probably will not come back. But even if they do come back, I will be able to protect myself and you as well, through the power of my understanding, for I know many pathways through the water."

After hearing this, Satabuddhi said, "Yes, what Sahasrabuddhi says is correct, for one rightly says: Where neither the wind nor the sun's rays have found a way, intelligent understanding will quickly make a path. And also: Everything on earth is subject to the understanding of those with intelligence. Why should one abandon the place of one's birth that has been passed down from generation to generation, just because of words? We must not retreat a single step! I will protect you through the power of my understanding."

The frog said, "I have but one wit, and it is advising me to flee. This very day I shall go with my wife to another pond."

After saying this, as soon as it was night, the frog went to another pond.

Early the next day the fishermen came like servants of the god of death and spread their nets over the pond. All the fish, turtles, frogs, crabs, and other water creatures were caught in the nets and captured, also Satabuddhi and Sahasrabuddhi, although they fled, and through their knowledge of the various paths escaped for a while by swimming to and fro. But they too, together with their wives, fell into a net and were killed.

That afternoon the fishermen happily set forth toward home. Because of his weight, one of them carried Satabuddhi on his head. They tied Sahasrabuddhi onto a string and dragged him along behind.

The frog Ekabuddhi, who had climbed onto the bank of his pond, said to his wife, "Look, dear! Mr. Hundred-Wit lies on someone's head, and Mr. Thousand-Wit is hanging from a string. But Mr. Single-Wit, my dear, is playing here in the clear water."

Here's a good rule of thumb: Too clever is dumb.
(Ogden Nash)

La Befana, an Italian Epiphany tale ( and a fabulously simple Biscotti recipe)

2008-12-30T03:58:00.001-07:00

The Legend of La Befana

A Christmas tale from Italian Folklore retold by La

La Befana was an old woman who lived in a small village in Italy. She was known throughout the village for her wonderful baking and the cleanliness of her kitchen. She was often seen sweeping the area in front of her home. And many had heard her say that she was so busy baking and cleaning that she rarely had time to do anything else.

One winter day, while La Befana was sweeping in front of her home, three travelers stopped to ask her for a drink of water. They told La Befana that they were astrologers (they were often called the three wise men) who were following a star to the birth place of the Christ child. She kindly gave them water and then invited them to dinner.

After dinner the astrologers prepared to continue their journey and asked her if she would like to come with them to see the Christ child. La Befana shook her head saying that she could not possibly take the time needed for such a journey. She was secretly itching to get back to her cleaning and cooking. She stood at her door and watched them leave.

La Befana went back to her sweeping. But hours later she began to feel that she had made a mistake. Maybe she should have gone with the 3 astrologers to see the Christ child. La Befana decided to follow them.

She quickly grabbed a basket and filled it with baked goods of all kinds. She then put on her shawl and with her basket and broom hurried off into the night practically running to catch up with the wise men.

La Befana traveled through the night but never caught up with the wise men. It is said that she ran and ran until she and her broom were lifted up into the air!

Ever since that night, La Befana is believed to fly through the night or run over the roofs in Italy on Epiphany eve. She stops at the home of every child, leaving them treats in their stockings if they are good and a lump of coal if they are bad.

She hopes that one of the children she visits will be the christ child.

Copyright LLL, Storyteller/Storysinger

story and recipe originally posted at StorytellingCookingandKids.blogspot.com

The name Befana is said to be a mispronunciation of the Italian word epifania which stands for epiphany. La Befana still visits the children of Italy on the eve of January 6, Epiphany. She fills their stockings with candy or a lump of coal. It is also believed that she sweeps the floor before she leaves. Many households leave her a small glass of wine and a small plate of goodies.

Biscotti - twice-baked (biscottare means to bake twice) biscuits
Biscotti are a traditional italian sweet that La Befana might have baked.

The following is a very simple biscotti recipe that "cheats" just a little.

Ingredients:
1 box dry cake mix (your choice of flavor)
1 cup all purpose flour
2 large eggs
1 stick melted butter
2 teaspoons vanilla (or your preferred flavor)

Optional:
¾ cup chopped nuts, dried fruit or chocolate pieces

Preheat the oven to 350F degrees.
Pour your cake mix and flour into the bowl of a stand mixer.
Add the eggs, butter and vanilla.
Mix on medium speed for 2 to 3 minutes. Mix in nuts or chocolate if desired.

This dough will be very stiff but will not stick to the bowl when properly mixed. The consistency will be like children’s play dough.

Divide dough into two halves.
Roll each half into a log, and place on a lined 11” x 15” x 1” baking pan.
Gently press the top of the cookie log into a rectangle, about 3 inches wide.
Repeat with the second half of the dough.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes.
Remove cookie pan from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes.

Do not turn the oven off.

Remove cookies from baking pan and cut into 1 inch piece logs.
You will be cutting this on the width.

Place cookies on their cut side on the lined baking pan.
Place pan back into the oven and bake for 10 minutes.
Remove cookies to cooling rack to cool completely.
Store cooled cookies in an airtight container.

Biscotti are delicious dipped in hot chocolate or coffee.
Bon Appetit!!

Pssssssst!! Here are a few biscotti variations:

yellow cake mix - chopped red and green dried cherries - almond extract.

butter pecan cake mix - sliced pecans - maple extract.

golden cake mix - sliced dried apricots - toasted slivered almonds - almond extract.

vanilla cake mix - sliced dried cranberries - almond extract.

spice cake mix - walnuts - grated orange zest

spice cake mix - sliced crystalized ginger pieces.

chocolate cake mix - chocolate piece or chips, freeze first so they retain their shape during baking.

lemon cake mix - toasted slivered almonds.

german chocolate cake mix - chopped hazelnuts - semisweet chocolate - 1/2 Tsp. ground cinnamon.

devil's food cake mix - white chocolate chips - chopped dried sweetened cherries - almond extract.

Legend of the Silver Pine Cone (and a really quick craft!)

2008-12-17T08:43:00.004-07:00

There once lived a poor family without enough food to eat or enough wood for their fire. The mother decided to go into the forest to search for pine cones.
She was planning to use the pine cones to build a fire for her family, and she was also hoping she could sell some of them to get money to buy food.

After walking for hours, the mother finally reached the forest and started gathering pine cones into her basket.
Suddenly, she heard a voice say, "Why are you stealing my pine cones?"
With that, an elf appeared beside her.

She explained her sad story to the elf.
With a crooked smile, the elf said, "Go into the next forest. The pine cones there are much better."

Hesitantly, the mother set off to the next forest, which was even farther away. When she reached it, she was very tired. She leaned against a tree and sat her basket on the ground.

No sooner had she set down her basket, and dozens of pine cones started falling to the ground. Filled with renewed energy, she gathered all the pine cones into her basket and returned home.

Tired again, once she returned home, she set down the basket for a moment on her doorstep. When she looked down at the basket of pine cones, they had all turned to silver.

The family would never be poor again.

Because of this legend, many people believe that a silver pine cone is lucky. It is customary to keep one on your dresser or hearth to make sure good fortune comes your way.

SUPER SIMPLE CRAFT:

Silver Pine Cones
you will need:
Pinecones
Silver paint or silver spray paint
Glitter (optional)

Directions
Use paint or spray paint to coat the pines cones with silver color.
You may then let them dry or while still wet sprinkle them with glitter.

That's it!
Use the pinecones as decoration around the house, or as a christmas tree decoration or give a silver pine cone and a copy of this legend as a gift.

Greensleeves

2008-12-02T07:36:00.002-07:00

There are many ways to tell a story.
One of my favorite ways, okay I have lots of favorite ways, but my most favorite way is by singing.
And a good place to get a singable story, other than some of the kids songs, is to check out ballads.
There are many ballads that can be used for storytelling ( check out my blog on The Twa Sisters) or as the basis for your own cante fable.

Greensleeves has a long history, beginning with its first mention in 1580 as a "new northern dittye of the Lady Greene Sleeves."
The song was mentioned twice in Act Two, Scene One of Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor.
The tune for Greensleeves is used for the Christmas song "What Child is This?". (The lyrics for "What Child is This?" were written around 1865 by Englishman William Chatterton Dix (1837-1898). It is unknown who merged Dix's lyrics with the "Greensleeves" tune.)

A reading of the lyrics [of Greensleeves] shows that it is not a sweet, innocuous love song, but a plea from a 16th century gentleman to his bored mistress. There are countless versions of the lyrics, including fourteen Cavalier songs and John Gay wrote lyrics to the tune for The Beggar's Opera. The verses to Greensleeves seem endless.

.

I suppose I should mention that it is commonly believed that Greensleeves was composed by King Henry VIII of England (1491-1547) for his lover and future queen consort Anne Boleyn. Anne, the youngest daughter of Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Wiltshire, rejected Henry's attempts to seduce her. This rejection is supposedly referred to in the song. Is this story true??? Who knows? But it is a great story.
I can definitely see someone (moi?) telling the story of Henry and Anne while inserting verses of Greensleeves in appropriate places.

(You can find the music for Greensleeves at 8notes.com or at Guitar Chords Magic )

I have included 2 vid versions of Greensleeves (why? because I am a youtubeaholic).
The first is very traditional. The second, located at the bottom of this post is a very modern jazzy, bluesy version.
I have also written out two different lyrics. The first is obviously very old.
The second is more like what you would sing today.

(to cut off blog music go to the bottom of the blog)
The King Singers singing Greensleeves acapella.

Greensleeves
A new Courtly Sonet, of the Lady Green
sleeues. To the new tune of Greensleeues.

Greensleeues was all my ioy,
Greensleeues was my delight:
Greensleeues was my hart of gold,
And who but Ladie Greensleeues.

Alas my loue, ye do me wrong,
to cast me off discurteously:
And I haue loued you so long
Delighting in your companie.
Greensleeues was all my ioy,
Greensleeues was my delight:
Greensleeues was my heart of gold,
And who but Ladie Greensleeues.

I haue been readie at your hand,
to grant what euer you would craue.
I haue both waged life and land,
your loue and good will for to haue.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

I bought three kerchers to thy head,
that were wrought fine and gallantly:
I kept thee both boord and bed,
Which cost my purse wel fauouredly,
Greensleeues was all my ioie, &c.

I bought thee peticotes of the best,
the cloth so fine as might be:
I gaue thee iewels for thy chest,
and all this cost I spent on thee.
Greensleeues was all my ioie, &c.

Thy smock of silk, both faire and white,
with gold embrodered gorgeously:
Thy peticote of Sendall right:
and thus I bought thee gladly.
Greensleeues was all my ioie, &c.

Thy girdle of gold so red,
with pearles bedecked sumptuously:
The like no other lasses had,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me,
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Thy purse and eke thy gay guilt kniues,
thy pincase gallant to the eie:
No better wore the Burgesse wiues,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Thy crimson stockings all of silk,
with golde all wrought aboue the knee,
Thy pumps as white as was the milk,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Thy gown was of the grossie green,
thy sleeues of Satten hanging by:
Which made thee be our haruest Queen,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Thy garters fringed with the golde,
And siluer aglets hanging by,
Which made thee blithe for to beholde,
And yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

My gayest gelding I thee gaue,
To ride where euer liked thee,
No Ladie euer was so braue,
And yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

My men were clothed all in green,
And they did euer wait on thee:
Al this was gallant to be seen,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

They set thee vp, they took thee downe,
they serued thee with humilitie,
Thy foote might not once touch the ground,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

For euerie morning when thou rose,
I sent thee dainties orderly:
To cheare thy stomack from all woes,
and yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Thou couldst desire no earthly thing.
But stil thou hadst it readily:
Thy musicke still to play and sing,
And yet thou wouldst not loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

And who did pay for all this geare,
that thou didst spend when pleased thee?
Euen I that am reiected here,
and thou disdainst to loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Wel, I wil pray to God on hie,
that thou my constancie maist see:
And that yet once before I die,
thou wilt vouchsafe to loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.

Greensleeues now farewel adue,
God I pray to prosper thee:
For I am stil thy louer true,
come once againe and loue me.
Greensleeues was all my ioy, &c.
Finis.

Greensleeves: a more modern version

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.

Chorus:
Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady greensleeves.

Your vows you've broken, like my heart,
Oh, why did you so enrapture me?
Now I remain in a world apart
But my heart remains in captivity.

chorus

I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave,
I have both wagered life and land,
Your love and good-will for to have.

chorus

If you intend thus to disdain,
It does the more enrapture me,
And even so, I still remain
A lover in captivity.

chorus

My men were clothed all in green,
And they did ever wait on thee;
All this was gallant to be seen,
And yet thou wouldst not love me.

chorus

Thou couldst desire no earthly thing,
but still thou hadst it readily.
Thy music still to play and sing;
And yet thou wouldst not love me.

chorus

Well, I will pray to God on high,
that thou my constancy mayst see,
And that yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.

chorus

Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,
To God I pray to prosper thee,
For I am still thy lover true,
Come once again and love me.

chorus

A very jazzy, bluesy version of Greensleeves by Vanessa Carlton

Net Sources:
Music Garden
Wikipedia
Greensleeves the Ballad
A Brief History of Love Songs
Mudcat Cafe
Minstrels Greensleeves
The Tudors
The Comtemlator's Short History of Broadside Ballads
THe Music of the 16th Century Broadside Ballad

My blog on The Twa Sisters

Some Thanksgiving Poems with a few recipes thrown in!

2008-11-21T18:01:00.007-07:00

THANKSGIVING NIGHT

T'was the night of Thanksgiving
But I just couldn't sleep.
I tried counting backwards.
I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned - the dark meat and white,
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation,
The thought of a snack became infatuation.

So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,
And gazed in the fridge, full of goodies galore,

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
Until all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky,
With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.

But I managed to yell as I soured past the trees,
"Happy eating to all, pass the cranberries, please.

May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump,
May your potatoes and gravy have nary a lump.

May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize,
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off your thighs."

Anonymous.

THANKSGIVING by Jack Prelutsky

The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air.
It knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.

It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with a deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen
completely obscuring the room.

It stuck to the walls and the windows.
It totally coated the floor.
There was turkey attached to the ceiling
where there'd never been turkey before.

It blanketed every appliance.
It smeared every saucer and bowl.
There wasn't a way I could stop it
that turkey was out of control.

I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I'd never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn't been popped.
•••••

I ATE TOO MUCH

"I ate too much turkey,
I ate too much corn,
I ate too much pudding and pie,
I'm stuffed up with muffins
and much too much stuffin',
I'm probably going to die.

I piled up my plate
and I ate and I ate,
but I wish I had known when to stop,
for I'm so crammed with yams,
sauces, gravies, and jams
that my buttons are starting to pop.

I'm full of tomatoes
and french fried potatoes,
my stomach is swollen and sore,
but there's still some dessert,
so I guess it won't hurt
if I eat just a little bit more."
JackPrelustsky.com

I found these recipes while fooling around on the net.
I thought they might be fun to try!

Skillet cranberries
(serves 4 to 6)

"Colonial cooks made this delight in a skillet with legs (about eight inches tall). It was cooked directly over hot coals. The electric (or gas) stove isn't nearly so romantic as an 18th century working fireplace, but much more efficient."

Ingredients
1 pound fresh cranberries
2 cups brown or white sugar
21/4 cup rum

Directions
Dump the fresh cranberies in to your indispensable black iron skillet (or oven proof dish).
Sprinkle the cranberries with sugar, cover the skillet, and place in a 250 degree oven.
After one hour remove the lid (use foil if you don't have a lid) and pour in the rum.
Continue cooking until the rum evaporates.
And please do not stir unless you have to absolutely have to. Stirring breaks up the cranberries, serves 4 to 6.

Submitted by Sonja Welch, aka The Community Chef, publishes her recipes in the The Community Bank quarterly newsletter "KITE TALES".

Pumpkin Apple Soup
Recipe submitted by chef Richard Catania of The Award winning Hearth n' Kettle Restaurants of Plymouth, Ma. and Cape Cod.

PUMPKIN APPLE SOUP
Ingredients
1 lb. 5 oz. Pumpkin Puree
1/4 tsp. Clove
1/4 lb. Apple Sauce
1-1/4 lb. Butter
2-1/2 tsp. Nutmeg
3 qt. Chicken Stock
2-1/2 tsp. Ginger
1-1/2 cups Brown Sugar
2 qt. Light Cream (Hot)

Directions
METHOD:
Cook all ingredients until smooth and hot -- simmer 15 minutes. Finish with cream.

The Lion Beaten by Man.....a fable by Jean de La Fontaine

2008-11-15T09:30:00.000-07:00

A picture once was shown,
In which one man, alone,
Upon the ground had thrown
A lion fully grown.

Much gloried at the sight the rabble.
A lion thus rebuked their babble:—

That you have got the victory there,
There is no contradiction.
But, gentles, possibly you are
The dupes of easy fiction:
Had we the art of making pictures,
Perhaps our champion had beat yours!"

Until the lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunter.
African Proverb

The Forever Trap

2008-11-08T13:55:00.000-07:00

I came across this story on a storytelling listserv.
The story was posted by Wayfayer Tomm.
I think this story has a message for all of us.

The Forever Trap

Sometimes are like other times and other times are like no time at all.

One morning that was like no other morning except maybe this morning.
Owl was returning from a long night, of exploring and studying and thinking and other types of work, that owls do in the quiet of the night.

As Owl was returning home he saw a Hunter sneaking through the low morning mist and the tall grass at the base of the big banyan tree.

Owl watched as the Hunter tied a shinny glass bottle.
To the root that stuck out from the base of the big banyan tree.

And Owl thought that that was more than just a little strange.
I mean, what the heck, the shinny glass bottle wasn't going to run away or
anything.

As soon as the Hunter finished tying up the shinny glass bottle he reached his hand into his pocket and he took some things out.

He put them into the bottle then the Hunter crept carefully and quietly off into the low mist and tall grass.

After the Hunter had left everything became really quiet.
Nothing happened for a long time while Owl's eyes closed and he took a well-earned nap.

Owl was almost dreaming when suddenly he heard a clittering and a clattering, a chittering and a chattering from the base of the big banyan tree.

"Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my, oh my goodness, oh my goodness! I'm trapped, this bottle has me trapped and I'll be trapped forever!"
"Eeeeee! I'll never get loose, I'll never get loose! I want to get loose and I want to get loose right now!!

"Oh me oh my", on and on went the chittering and the chattering, on and on when the clittering and the clattering as owl looked down to the base of the big banyan tree.

He saw Monkey just a pulling and a tugging and a jumping up and a jumping down, a running back and a running forth with his hand stuck inside the shinny glass bottle that was tied to the root that stuck out from the bottom of the big banyan tree.

Owl quickly flew down to get a closer look at the situation and as he looked through the clear sides of the shiny glass bottle, he could see right away what was causing Monkey to have his hand stuck in the shiny glass bottle.

Inside the bottle were many nuts which were Monkey's favorite food.
Monkey had his hands wrapped around three or four of the nuts which was why Monkey could not pull his hand back through the small opening at the top of the shiny glass bottle.

"You have your hand filled with nuts," said Owl to Monkey.

And Monkey said back " I found them, I found them, they're my nuts, they're my nuts and I want to eat them right now!"

"You have your hand stuck in the bottle," said Owl, again, to Monkey.

Monkey said back, " Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my, oh my goodness this bottle has me trapped! I'm trapped and I'll be trapped forever!"
"EeeK I want to get loose and I'll never get loose I want to get loose and I want to get loose right now!

"Well, let loose of the nuts and you can take your hand out of the bottle." said Owl to Monkey.
And Monkey said back "They're my nuts, they're my nuts! I found them, they're mine and I want them right now!"

Owl told Monkey " If you drop the nuts they will still be in the shiny glass bottle
and you will be able to get your hand out of the bottle and you can decide what to do next while the nuts are still safe in the bottle which you will still be
holding."

Monkey looked around to be sure there was no one else near him and Monkey open his hand and he dropped the nuts and slowly withdrew his hand from the bottle.

When his hand was out of the bottle Monkey started to jump up and down
Shouting joyfully, "I'm free! I'm free! Thank you Owl! Oh thank you Owl! I
don't know how to thank you enough."

And with those words Monkey went running up the big banyan tree until he got
to the end of the rope. Which was tied to the shiny glass bottle, which was tied to the root that stuck out of the base of the big banyan tree.

Well, the rope snapped tight and it pulled Monkey off of balance and he fell to the ground with a big thump and a bounce and a little bump.

And monkey started yelling at Owl. "You tricked me, you tricked me! They're my nuts, they're my nuts, I want them and I want them right now!"

Owl waited until Monkey calmed down and then told him, "If you turn the
bottle upside down, all those nuts will fall out and you will be able to eat them."

So Monkey slowly turned the shiny glass bottle upside down.
Out of that bottle flowed more nuts than any one monkey could eat at any one sitting.
Monkey was so happy that he started to jump up and down shouting joyfully, "My nuts, my nuts! Oh thank you Owl, thank you! I don't know how to thank you enough!

"Well", said Owl "Those nuts look awfully good. There are more than you can eat. Maybe you will share a few of those nuts with me."

Monkey shouted "They're my nuts, they're my nuts! I found them, they're mine and I want them and I want all of them!"

And he tried to pick up all the nuts at one time and to run off with them but there were more nuts then any one monkey could carry.
The more nuts that Monkey tried to pick up the more nuts that he dropped until out of complete frustration Monkey stopped and asked "What am I going to do? What am I going to do? Oh Owl, what am I going to do?"

Well Owl cocked his head to one side and he looked at Monkey.
Then Owl cocked his head to the other side and he looked at Monkey some more.

Then Owl said " Monkey if you put all the nuts back in the bottle there will
not be any left on the ground."

Monkey grabbed at the nuts and quickly put them all back in the bottle

Then Owl said "Those nuts look good enough to eat."
Monkey said "And I want to eat them right now!"

Monkey reached his hand into the bottle and rapped his greedy little fingers around three or four nuts, when he found that he couldn't pull his hand out of the bottle.

He said "Oh me, Oh my, oh me, oh my, oh my goodness, oh my goodness I'm
trapped! This bottle has me trapped and I'll be trapped forever! I'll never get loose, I want to get loose and I want to get loose right now!"

Owl just looked at Monkey and Owl said "Monkey, that bottle is not what will
keep you trapped forever."

Then Owl unfolded his wings and flew off to his home where he got good days
sleep.

Two Frogs based on a Russian Fable

2008-11-05T12:18:00.000-07:00

A wonderful message for all of us!!
(blog music can be turned off at the bottom of the page)

Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam Run For Office.....Vote for Bugs!!!

2008-11-03T23:05:00.001-07:00

A Classic and too too funny!!
(go to bottom of blog to cut off music)

The Rainbow

2008-11-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

The Origin of the Rainbow
A Native American Legend - Nation Unknown

Once upon a time the colors of the world started to quarrel: all claimed that they were the best, the most important, the most useful, the favorite.

GREEN said: "Clearly I am the most important. I am the sign of life and of hope. I was chosen for grass, trees, leaves - without me, all animals would die. Look over the countryside and you will see that I am in the majority."

BLUE interrupted: "You only think about the earth, but consider the sky and the sea. It is the water that is the basis of life and drawn up by the clouds from the deep sea. The sky gives space and peace and serenity. Without my peace, you would all be nothing."

YELLOW chuckled: "You are all so serious. I bring laughter, gaiety, and warmth into the world. The sun is yellow, the moon is yellow, the stars are yellow. Every time you look at a sunflower, the whole world starts to smile. Without me there would be no fun."

ORANGE started next to blow her trumpet: "I am the color of health and strength. I may be scarce, but I am precious for I serve the needs of human life. I carry the most important vitamins. Think of carrots, pumpkins, oranges, mangoes, and pawpaws. I don't hang around all the time, but when I fill the sky at sunrise or sunset, my beauty is so striking that no one gives another thought to any of you."

RED could stand it no longer. He shouted out: "I am the ruler of all of you - I am blood - life's blood! I am the color of danger and of bravery. I am willing to fight for a cause. I bring fire into the blood. Without me, the earth would be as empty as the moon. I am the color of passion and of love, the red rose, the poinsettia and the poppy."

PURPLE rose up to his full height. He was very tall and spoke with great pomp: "I am the color of royalty and power. Kings, chiefs, and bishops have always chosen me for I am the sign of authority and wisdom. People do not question me - they listen and obey."

Finally, INDIGO spoke, much more quietly than all the others, but with just as much determination: "Think of me. I am the color of silence. You hardly notice me, but without me you all become superficial. I represent thought and reflection, twilight and deep water. You need me for balance and contrast, for prayer and inner peace."

And so the colors went on boasting, each convinced of his or her own superiority. Their quarreling became louder and louder. Suddenly there was a startling flash of bright lightening - thunder rolled and boomed. Rain started to pour down relentlessly. The colors crouched down in fear, drawing close to one another for comfort.

In the midst of the clamor, rain began to speak: "You foolish colors, fighting amongst yourselves, each trying to dominate the rest. Don't you know that you were each made for a special purpose, unique and different? Join hands with one another and come to me."

Doing as they were told, the colors united and joined hands. The rain continued: "From now on, when it rains, each of you will stretch across the sky in a great bow of color as a reminder that you can all live in peace. The rainbow is a sign of hope for tomorrow."

And so, whenever a good rain washes the world, and a rainbow appears in the sky, let us remember to appreciate one another.

Story found at Story-Lovers.com
•••••

Rainbow at the beginning of the blog found at MissouriSkies.org

The Witches Speech from Shakespeare's Macbeth and Mood Music/Vids from Disney's Fantasia

2008-10-30T15:20:00.000-07:00

Just the thing to get you in that Halloween mood!!!

SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron

Thunder. Enter the three Witches

First Witch

Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

Second Witch

Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third Witch

Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First Witch

Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch

Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE to the other three Witches

HECATE

O well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains;
And now about the cauldron sing,
Live elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' & c

HECATE retires

Second Witch

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!

Enter MACBETH

MACBETH

How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
What is't you do?

ALL

A deed without a name.

MACBETH

I conjure you, by that which you profess,
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germens tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken; answer me
To what I ask you.

First Witch

Speak.

Second Witch

Demand.

Third Witch

We'll answer.

First Witch

Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters?

MACBETH

Call 'em; let me see 'em.

First Witch

Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet throw
Into the flame.

ALL

Come, high or low;
Thyself and office deftly show!

Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head

MACBETH

Tell me, thou unknown power,--

First Witch

He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First Apparition

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.

Descends

MACBETH

Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
word more,--

First Witch

He will not be commanded: here's another,
More potent than the first.

Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child

Second Apparition

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

MACBETH

Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Second Apparition

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth.

Descends

MACBETH

Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.

Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand
What is this
That rises like the issue of a king,
And wears upon his baby-brow the round
And top of sovereignty?

ALL

Listen, but speak not to't.

Third Apparition

Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

Descends

MACBETH

That will never be
Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

ALL

Seek to know no more.

MACBETH

I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

Hautboys

First Witch

Show!

Second Witch

Show!

Third Witch

Show!

ALL

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart!

A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following

MACBETH

Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
A third is like the former. Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!
What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass
Which shows me many more; and some I see
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.

Apparitions vanish
What, is this so?

First Witch

Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
And show the best of our delights:
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antic round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE

Night on Bald Mountain from Disney's Fantasia

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor from Disney's Fantasia (1940)

Wait Til' Martin Comes......a spooky tale for Halloween

2008-10-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

I tell a similar tale titled "Better Wait Til Martin Comes".
The kids and adults love it!!
This story is from a 1970's record album called "Scary Spooky Stories".
Happy Halloween!

The Secret of Success in 8 words and 3 minutes....Really!!

2008-10-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes...this is related to storytelling.
I keep telling you that EVERYTHING is related to storytelling...or STORYTELLING is related to everything.
(Listen to your storyteller!)

Stories can help people learn, absorb, remember and share information and ideas. Stories motivate, persuade, inform and inspire. Compelling stories have far-reaching emotional impact. And stories can demonstrate what success looks and feels like, painting a clear picture of how we might need to change the way we think and do things.
from The-Storytellers.com
I figured they had said it so well there was no need for me to change it.

This vid is from TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design)an invitation-only event where the world's leading thinkers and doers gather to find inspiration.
If you do not see the vid, you may see something that says player 7 or player 8. Just hit one of those and the vid should pop up.

"A song ain’t nothin’ in the world but.....

2008-10-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

"A song ain’t nothin’ in the world but a story just wrote with music to it." —Hank Williams, Sr.

One of my favorite Hank Williams,Sr. songs (Cold Cold Heart) sung by a wonderful singer.

My other favorite Hank,Sr. song...Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Lovin' it!!!